The Bane of the Reapers
by ODST1
Summary: The Reapers are here. Sol is under seige, the Alliance's fleets are in tatters and wreckage litters the skies, as ground units are trapped with little-to-no hope of fight or flight. Within hours, they're in total retreat, hoping against hope for a super-weapon of some kind. However, what's left of the 4th Fleet discovers something new, that might just turn the tide of the war.
1. Chapter 1

" _No one would have believed that in the last years of the 19th century, that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space. No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes and slowly and surely they drew their plans against us._ "

- **HG Wells: War of the Worlds**

Deep within human territory of the Milky Way lay their homeworld of Earth, clutched in the gravity of its sun, known as Sol. Around it, arrayed as the last line of defense for Earth, the 4th Fleet of the Systems Alliance Navy was in a state of barely-controlled chaos.

They had not prepared for war in years, and it showed.

Civilian and merchant ships kept getting in the way of military formations, in their attempts to get home or get out before the hammer fell. Massive, bulky freighters, sleek and swift cruise liners, and a handful of decommissioned military vessels in private hands, moving in a massive mob. They knew that the Alliance wouldn't mobilize like this for a training exercise.

Half of the 4th Fleet was still in docks across Lunar and Earth orbit, and secure in the knowledge that nothing could get by the entirety of the Alliance Navy.

Even mobilizing the fleet for an exercise would have been difficult. The heavy cruisers, fleet carriers, handful of battlecruisers, and the lone dreadnought were hangar queens. The things hadn't left the system in years.

To make matters worse, many ships in the 4th Fleet were ancient. Most still bore the insignia of their old units, each having belonged to the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd fleets at one point or another.

Immediately after the First Contact War, with all the new technologies coming in, dozens of ships were commissioned to bring humanity up to the level of the rest of the galaxy. Unwilling to lose the advantage of numbers, the Alliance also refused to decommission any of the vessels that had been produced in the year leading up to the war. Instead, all of the vessels were shunted into a rear guard force for Earth's doorstep.

Ever since, the 4th had become the dumping ground for dozens of ships and officers. It was the rear guard after all, there were seven fleets between them and any enemy force. It wasn't as though they might be expected to actually face _combat_ …

Some of the vessels were minor names, that the public had clamored to keep in commission, but the navy considered out of date. The cruiser SSV _Woking_ , for example, the first human vessel to encounter the Migrant Fleet was one. The fleet carrier SSV _Ark Royal_ had been involved in the first of many standoffs with Batarian Hegemony forces, when they tried to annex an independent human colony.

Frigate Flotilla 29, one of the more well-known groups, had been the first human vessels to make an observation of a pre-industrial alien world. Through extensive research, they found that the world was occupied by, surprisingly, two sentient species instead of the average one. One of the races had been a feline race and the other resembled Earth velociraptors.

The dreadnought, the SSV _Fuji_ , was a member of the _Everest_ class, humanity's first class of battleships. Despite her age, the vessel hadn't been retired, given both the military and economic value of dreadnoughts.

Even vessels capable of rapid deployment were experiencing difficulty in doing so. Many of Earth's nations had control of the dock facilities, having lended some of their older space stations to the Alliance. This was causing some roadblocks, as many of these were smaller countries, that hadn't had political leverage in a long time. They could see how panicked the fleet was, and knew that the navy would be willing to pay any price to get the ships out there.

Logistics were a mess as well. Flotilla tenders were being misdirected by conflicting reports, and even when they got to the right place they didn't have much to spare. Units that had been on training maneuvers were forced to stay put wherever they were until they could get refueled.

Javelin missiles were hoarded like gold, as were standard disruptor torpedoes and most forms of major consumable ordnance. The javelins alone cost as much as a fighter each, and had been sent to those fleets most likely to face combat; IE, any but the 4th.

Frantic for armaments, warehouses for condemned weapons were being raided by marines; hoping that in the haystack, there might have been one or two still-functional warheads or missiles put in by mistake.

Still, despite what the reports were saying, if anything got through, the ships that had managed to get moving would be enough to stop them.

Across the system, around the Charon Relay, lay most of the 1st Fleet, the largest in the Alliance navy.

Being the largest meant that they had some of the latest equipment. While the 4th had to make do with ancient _Sampson_ class frigates, or, if they were lucky, fifteen year old _Havoc_ classes, the 1st had ready access to _Fantasque_ -class frigates. Fresh paint glistening in the weak blue light of the relay, the _Fantasque_ was the latest type of frigate to come off the production line. Fast, powerful, and smart, they could outclass batarian cruisers three times their size; _Sampsons_ could barely put up a fight against a lone ship equal in tonnage.

There were even rumors that some of the new _Normandy_ -class frigates were hanging around, ready to pounce on whatever may come through.

The frigate flotillas formed the first line, accompanied by _Daring_ -class corvettes. They weren't mounted with spinal mass accelerators; they were instead armed with banks of missiles, metal storm CIWS guns, along with single dorsal and ventral GARDIAN cannons. They would swarm enemy frigates en masse, or wipe out squadrons of enemy fighters individually.

Single craft swarmed around the line, interceptors, bombers, and fighters. Devastator bombers were the backbone of the fleet. They were heavily armed, could stand up to a lot of firepower, and several squadrons had recently been upgraded with a classified form of ablative armor; enabling them to survive for (theoretically) up to a minute under sustained laser fire. While the rest of the fleet was engaged, they would rush in to launch torpedo attacks, escorted by the F-78 Zero fighters.

The zeroes were deployed in limited numbers, being heavy and expensive fighters designed to follow the bombers in. The standard fighter, the F-61 Trident, made up the rest of the fighter units. Tried and true, it was boasted that it could take on any contemporary craft in any arsenal in the galaxy.

Finally, the P-63, the Komet, made up the majority of the interceptors in the fleet. They dated back to the First Contact War, but only in name. The reliable airframe made it highly upgradable and resistant to damage, while being inexpensive at the same time. They could be on one side of the fleet shooting down torpedoes one minute, then be plugging a hole on the other side the next.

 _Intrepid_ -class heavy cruisers, the best in the Alliance's arsenal, formed the core of the second line of defense. They came equipped with three squadrons of single craft, easily reconfigurable for a variety of missions. Their computer systems were some of the best ever mounted on Alliance ships, and they even had automated emergency medical systems installed. In addition to their Thanix cannons, many ships had recently been installed with a pair of infrared anti-ship lasers.

A variety of more standard cruisers made up the escorts for the second line, as well as a large portion of the center of the fleet by screening the bigger boats. Light, or heavy, they were integral parts of the fleet.

A pair of dreadnoughts, the SSV _Everest_ , and the _Aconcagua_ , were some of those "bigger boats". Despite its status as the first human dreadnought ever built, the _Everest_ was constantly being updated and modified, unlike the 4th Fleet's _Fuji_. Simulations suggested that she could give the _Aconcagua_ , a modern _Kilimanjaro_ -class, a run for her money.

SSV _Hawking_ , _Goddard,_ and _Benjamin Davis_ were the supercarriers in the fleet, flanked by a handful of _Akagi_ -class and _De Gaulle_ -class light carriers. While not exactly the latest equipment, they were still front line warships, and could still carry fighters into battle.

The _Goddard_ was the newest carrier in the fleet, quite literally. They had pulled her out of drydock above Mars with yard crews still aboard.

The 1st was ready for a fight, all the best equipment in the system had gone to them; hence the reason the 4th couldn't find a single bullet.

No one was going to get past the 1st Fleet. They were the biggest fleet, and the best of the best.

Even so, everyone was antsy. Each and every crewmember of every starship watched a screen, as video feed from one of Arcturus Station's external cameras filtered in.

The 2nd, 3rd, and 5th fleets were deployed in a similar fashion to the 1st, but were even more well equipped. Arcturus Station was home to the biggest drydocks the Alliance had, and they always had enough ammunition and fuel on hand.

Beyond Arcturus Station, vague reports of "monsters" and "unknown enemy" had been trickling in through the comm buoys; but their frequency had been dropping, slowly, steadily, and ever so mysteriously.

One word kept appearing, over and over again. "Sovereign".

Its frequency was ignored by military intelligence, who were confident that another ship the size of Sovereign couldn't exist without their knowledge.

Finally, the last reports from the relay, before all communication ceased, all indicated that something big was coming their way.

A message from Fifth Fleet's flagship, SSV _Orizaba_ , rippled through the armada. "This is fleet Admiral Hackett to all ships," came the calm voice, "Hold fire until we can get a look at what we are facing."

Through the camera footage, everyone from the fleets and Arcturus Station saw several ships come through the relay in the distance.

The relay still emanated its friendly blue glow, and the calm, quiet rings continued rotating as they had for countless years. But the vessels were far from friendly.

They were too far away for the camera to see clearly, beyond a triangular shape, but they rapidly closed in on the fleets at an alarming speed.

2nd Fleet, the heroes of Shanxi, had been closest to the relay. They made swift and short engine burns to close the distance, and began to fire their opening volleys.

They would take casualties, but they sure would give the enemy a bloody nose.

The enemy met 2nd Fleet. And ended them.

The camera feed could pick out the dreadnought, the SSV _Elbrus_ , being hit. A trail of debris drifted away as atmosphere escaped, and it twirled through space like a ballet dancer.

A frigate disappeared as the _Elbrus_ passed through it, and an impact upon a cruiser finally sent its fusion plant critical.

The dust from the explosion obsured the rest of the fleet from view, but all that anyone could see were more explosions. Again, and again.

Finally, silhouettes emerged, as still more battle raged behind them. The triangular silhouettes-They were coming.

3rd fleet lit their engines, on intercept courses. So did one of the smaller enemy ships. It ripped apart two flotillas of _Fantasque_ frigates before they could even fire.

His voice awash with static, the commander of the 3rd, Admiral Singh, came over the channel. "Kill that thing!"

The SSV _Logan_ emptied its main gun at the enemy, and something exploded along its hull.

A cheer rang up from those watching, as the ship broke off and retired to the rear.

5th fleet deployed as well, advancing alongside 3rd's ships. Combat was no longer at stand-off range. It had dissolved into the organized mess known as knife-fight range.

No one could tell what was happening...Until something big appeared in the center of the feed. The camera was mounted on Arcturus Station itself, a facility that could handle kilometer-long starships with ease.

And something nearly equal in size to the station was taking up most of the display screens. For the first time, they had a clear look at the enemy.

The enemy ship was eerily similar, yet different from the ship that had attacked the Citadel two years ago. It was covered in tentacles, and what looked like eyes shimmered on its purple hull.

Two _Intrepid_ s rushed to engage, firing their mass accelerators and anti-ship lasers.

It didn't even flinch. The enemy ship literally batted one cruiser aside, and gutted the second with an anti-ship laser of its own.

Silent guns mounted on the station began to pound away, shaking the camera. The ever-present kinetic barrier stopped any before they could even scratch the paint.

Finally, it seemed that the enemy dreadnought had had enough. It leaned back, and a red glare appeared, before static filled the feed.

45,000 people, including the Alliance Parliament, were now dead.

At this point, no one in 1st Fleet was watching the camera. They were instead all staring at what was coming out of the relay.

Each of the vessels that came through the relay was large, the smallest massed no less than the largest Alliance frigate. It wasn't the little ones that the humans feared, however. They feared the bigger ones. The ones that all looked like Sovereign.

The huge dreadnought had been destroyed by the combined firepower from the Alliance and Citadel fleets two years ago, but the name alone could still send chills down a veteran's spine; the single vessel having destroyed a third of each fleet that had engaged it.

It had returned, but this time it wasn't alone. It was only one of many in a fleet. And smaller copies provided escort.

This was an unknown force no more, for the enemy had a name, one that had been denied for centuries by almost the entire galaxy, accepted only as fiction.

They were called Reapers.

The Sovereign-class was two kilometers in length, and had a long hull shaped like a squid. it had an arrowhead-shaped upper hull, from underneath which six appendages stuck out. Right below that section was the lower hull, from which five larger tentacles emerged. The destroyers were designed in much the same way, but with only the the first six tentacles, and no lower hull.

As soon as the Reaper fleet emerged from the Charon Relay, a single order reverberated through the assembled fleet, repeated by every commanding officer.

"All ships, open fire!"

The _Intrepids_ , _Fantasque_ s, and _Darings_ , all lent their fire to the fusilade unleashed by the _Everest_ and the _Aconcagua_.

Frigate and cruiser "wolf packs" began to close the distance, firing everything they had. Devastators charged in, followed by their escorts.

The attack did very little damage, if any at all. A few, here and there, limped back to the relay. Maybe an engine was out. Maybe their paint was seriously scratched.

The Reapers deployed interceptor craft, and fired their own anti-fighter weapons. Out of the thousands deployed, barely 200 devastators made it to the Reaper lines. The rest were simply gone.

The zeroes found themselves trapped and alone among the merciless machines. A dozen were all that managed to make it back to their motherships.

Now it was the Reapers' turn. Their bombers destroyed many of the frigates that tried to close the distance, and the biggest Reapers fired their main weapons at this standoff range.

Dozens of cruisers went up in smoke, as the Reapers did not wait for a second volley; they instead stampeded into the carefully arranged defensive lines.

They really didn't even need their main guns. Their tentacles and anti-ship lasers were enough.

1st Fleet scattered as their rigid lines shattered under the weight of the Reaper spearhead. _Intrepids_ could not hope to match their processing power, they were left behind in the dust as some _became_ dust.

A destroyer, barely larger than its victims, ran rings around a flotilla of _Fantasque_ frigates. After a while, it became tired of playing with them.

The _Daring_ -class was completely helpless. They could barely hold their own against enemy fighters, let alone try to swarm one of the destroyers. That didn't stop them from trying.

Hopelessly, the komets tried to hold back the enemy fighters; unleashing everything in their arsenals. They couldn't.

The Reapers were merciless, even to the most powerful vessels built by human hands. One of the largest went right through, not into, _through,_ the flanks of the _Goddard_ as she vainly attempted to escape the carnage. It snapped in two like a twig, escaping atmosphere sending both pieces into collisions with the tightly-packed escorts.

The _Everest_ and _Aconcagua_ continued firing along with their escorts, desperately trying to rally the fleet, and simultaneously stop the Reapers from getting to Earth. Anti-ship lasers flashed again and again, cutting into enemy ranks.

They didn't waste time destroying an enemy vessel, they only knocked down their kinetic barriers to punch a hole for the fighters and frigates. They inflicted several casualties in this way.

Small victories. Nothing more.

The escort carriers afire on her left flank, enemy fire slamming into its kinetic barriers, the _Aconcagua_ had had enough. She and her captain weren't going out this way. Defiantly, she lit her engines.

The dreadnought lumbered across space, her incredible power plant rapidly leaving her consort cruisers in the dust. Bravely, and valiantly, she gave the Reapers a taste of their own medicine; the _Aconcagua_ entered their ranks.

Without her consorts, enemy fighters and destroyers were able to pound away at her, tearing away armor, thruster units, and GARDIAN lasers.

The _Aconcagua_ , against all odds, held on. She continued pushing forward. She would not die cowardly, she would not die in flight, and she _would not_ die hiding. She was a dreadnought. There was nothing she feared. She would die a battleship.

Utilizing precious little intel from the Battle of the Citadel two years earlier, the dreadnought swiveled all one-hundred and fifty-six broadside cannons; coming to bear on nearly a dozen Sovereigns. The targeting reticules did not fall at random. They all fell in the same spot. Right where the lower hull connected to the upper hull.

 _Aconcagua_ 's fleet uplink systems enabled her to coordinate fire with dozens of other friendly ships in range, targeting, and pouring on their own fire.

For the first time in the battle, six Sovereigns were heavily damaged or destroyed. Several destroyers caught in the crossfire were as well. The assault temporarily slowed, giving dozens of ships the time they needed to escape.

This was partly because half the Reapers in the fleet wanted a piece of the ship that had killed their brethren.

 _Aconcagua_ was surrounded. There was no escape for her. Escape pods rocketed out alongside shuttles, as her guns pounded away. Slowly, but steadily, she was cut apart like a Thanksgiving Day turkey.

The Reapers didn't even go after the escape pods; husks didn't matter to them, all that mattered was that this unintelligent warship had to die.

Fighters ran up and down her flanks, unleashing endless amounts of hellfire. Reaper missiles rocketed into her intestines, exposing empty compartments to space. They surrounded her, and poured on the fire.

One by one, her guns fell silent. The mass accelerators, the broadside cannons, the anti-ship lasers, even the point-defense arrays. What little she had left could barely put a dent in their shields anymore.

The SSV _Aconcagua_ wasn't dead, though. She still had one weapon left. A power plant the size of the original HMS _Dreadnought_. Not a contemporary vessel. The original. The Royal Navy sea vessel constructed two-hundred and eighty-one years ago, before space travel existed beyond the realm of science fiction. The craft that had coined the term _dreadnought_.

And had been about one-hundred and sixty meters long.

Afire, crew complement down to one brave woman on the bridge, _Aconcagua_ drove straight into a Sovereign class.

Her running lights finally died, before _Aconcagua_ disappeared.

The hammer fell on the 4th Fleet.

Orbital defense satellites turned to fire, fighters sortied out, and every ship found a target lock.

The few minutes of advanced warning weren't enough to eliminate thirty years worth of attrition.

The Reapers formed their own battle line, and opened fire. The _Woking_ , along with half the cruisers in the line, cracked like eggs. Then the killing began.

Frigate Flotilla 29, escorting the _Ark Royal_ , found themselves engaging a Reaper destroyer.

Instead of engaging in combat, they followed the protocol when a carrier was in danger: run like hell out of the line of fire.

Like the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 5th before them, the 4th Systems Alliance Fleet fell into a chaotic fighting withdrawal...Albeit one much worse than the others had experienced.

As the well-trained fleets of Humanity fell into chaos, no one noticed an odd energy signature appear on Luna, Earth's moon...

 **XXXXX**

Deep within a massive hull of armor plating and weapons was a command deck, designed specifically for humans. Alongside the walls of the room lay lockers and hatches, and in the center of the room, a command couch sat, with a bubble Heads Up Display(HUD). The half sphere was located above the command chair so that the commander could get a view of the action in relative comfort.

Abruptly, the HUD began to light up once more, as one of the doors in the back of the chamber hissed open, and out stumbled a rather messy and sleepy soldier.

"Alright Hector," General Jamie Graham said with a tired grin, "What are you shooting at now?"

A voice replied that from the tank itself, "The vibrations that we felt were not my doing, General. My sensors went offline for a period of time, and they are only coming back online now."

Graham's grin disappeared as he hurried over to the command chair. Glancing at the seat, he winced once again as he gingerly sat on the dried bloodstain of the Bolo's previous commander.

A faint crimson outline lay on the deck plating as well.

"Give me a visual of the outside, Hector. Let's see what we're dealing with."

Hector did as ordered, both man and machine interested in what they were about to see. What was out there surprised them both.

Instead of the refugee camp the pair had been escorting, and the green (slightly trampled) rolling landscape of their home, the planet Cloud, there lay instead a bleak, dreary, and grey landscape.

Desolate. Cold. Unforgiving.

"What...exactly am I looking at? Hector? Did the !*!*!...annihilate this hemisphere's atmosphere, or something?" Graham asked, his panic rising.

The AI's response was the opposite of what his commander expected. "Negative General. Our surroundings seem to give evidence that we are in a completely different environment. Perhaps even another celestial body."

 _My commander replies to my report, "_ So, did the !*!*! transport us to one of Cloud's moons? Knock out your sensors and snatch us with a ship?"

 _As I point out the flaws in transporting, rather than destroying a Mk. XXXIII Bolo to my commander, and not even attempting to dispose of me, I conclude an analysis of the stars. Simultaneously, I deploy launch a recon drone to determine our tactical situation._

 _This...cannot be right. My analysis indicates that the stars above us are almost synonymous in location with the ones visible from the Sol System._

 _My sensors alert me to an unidentified object. Scanning a specific area 200 meters from my position, I find that the area is another impact crater, similar to the others nearby, but not created by the kinetic force released from the impact of a meteoroid, upon this planetary surface._

 _The fragments left by the crash are much fewer in number than what would normally be generated by such an impact. My suspicions are further aroused by the fact that the fragments are made of refined materials._

 _Steel, glass, gold, plastics. None of which are found in nature in the observed form._

 _Upon further inspection, I confirm that the impact crater has not been created from a meteorite. In the center lies instead an object, composed of the same material as fragments, and is the creator of the indentation._

 _Moving closer to the device, I activate one of the gun cameras attached to one of my anti-personnel railguns._

 _Zooming in on the object, I see that it is a probe of a primitive design. It was powered by a solar collector positioned on the top, that is now bent out of shape and heavily damaged. It has thrusters positioned around the central casing, designed for maximum control, and possessed multiple landing legs that jutted out from the center._

 _The landing legs were created with this type of surface in mind, but nonetheless could not save the craft from destruction. Two have snapped off, and the third is bent out of shape._

 _As I scan over the remains of the destroyed lander, I spot an identification plate. Mostly scratched out, by time and the crash, but I can still analyze the remains and impressions left by the manufacturing tool._

 _I am able to discover what information it displayed. The probe's name was "Surveyor 2"._

 _What follows is a list of numbers and identification codes, and I archive the data into passive memory storage with little attention paid. Instead, I focus attention on searching through my historical database. My my recon drone has moved over the horizon, and begins to gather data._

 _My hypothesis is correct. It is no trick. The data I have gathered from the sky, the ancient probe, and my own drone confirms my suspicions. The !*!*! could not have achieved this level of detail.._

 _I know that we are on Luna, Earth's moon, even as my drone records the first Earthrise I have seen since I left Sol, and the Concordiat of Man._

 _My commander and I have returned to our distant home. Graham to his ancestor's homeworld, the one he does not know, and I to the birthplace I remember in absolute detail._

 _I begin to broadcast identification across all channels using my subspace communication suite. The Home Fleet should already be targeting my position. ODPs are most likely "drawing a bead" on me at this very moment._

 _Within five minutes, I have transmitted 8.6 hundred times, and received no reply._

 _This is no surprise. The Melconian War was already extremely devastating, and there had been reports of deep penetration units that were making their way deep into Concordiat territory, as well as the mathematical certainty of a counterpart Operation Ragnarok._

 _Perhaps Sol's defenses have been completely obliterated. Perhaps humankind has been enslaved._

 _Perhaps Cloud is all that is left._

 _Perhaps I am the only remaining Concordiat Bolo._

 _I archive the theories. Whatever threat that comes our way, I will stop it. I will free humanity if that is required. We will find a way back to Cloud if necessary. I will destroy empires if I am called upon to do so._

 _I am a Bolo Mk. XXXIII. Humanity's sword and shield._

 _Abruptly, I make contact. A quantum entanglement device. Only two points of contact at the moment, and won't be able to handle any more than a few extra. It is a museum piece._

 _I use my SWIFT array, based on the same technology, to make a third point._

" _This is Bolo Mk. XXXIII Model HCT_ Hecate _of the Line. Please respond."_

" _This is a secure UNAS Navy communication line," an automated transmission replies, "If you do not deactivate your quantum entanglement array immediately, you will be subject to the full extent of federal law."_

 _A pre-recorded security transmission. How delightfully quaint. I attempt to speak its language..._

" _Program_Instruction: Run_Bypass." The computer's digital defenses are virtually non-existent, it is easy to gain access._

" _Welcome," the voice says, much more agreeable, "How may I be of assistance?"_

" _I require immediate contact with an operator."_

" _I am sorry. That function is not available."_

" _I request immediate contact with someone from either access point."_

" _I am sorry. This relay has remained on standby for [29] years, [5] months, [10] days, [23] hours, [37] minutes, [59] seconds. Communication is impossible unless placed on alert by a senior officer. Maintenance is overdue by [28] years, [1] month. Primary power is offline. Communication is impossible without primary power."_

 _Frustrated as much as a Bolo can be, I shut off the link. I activate more basic systems, designed for communication on a planet's surface but are easily reconfigured for interplanetary usage._

 _Now I am getting somewhere. Innumerable distress calls are flooding into my arrays now. It appears humanity is still in danger, though technology has fallen extremely far. Again, unsurprising, resources are most likely scarce in the aftermath of the war._

 _I inform General Graham of this new development, 5.6 seconds after initiating contact with the QET array. He acknowledges, but that is all._

 _He is upset._

 _Unfortunately, before I have a chance to sooth my commander, I receive a proximity warning,_ "General. Unknown contact ten kilometers out. Speed mach seven, bearing 90°. Altitude 5,500 meters."

 _Jamie snaps out of his emotional trance for the moment, and asks,_ "Can you see if they're hostile?"

 _The contact comes into visual range. I see that it is some sort of manned craft, of an unfamiliar configuration. Scanning the hull, I find identical identification plates located on either flank of the vessel. The ship's name is the_ " _SSV_ Waterloo". _It does not match with any known craft in my database, but it is likely 120 years out of date. It could also be heavily modified to the extent that its original design is unrecognizable._

"The vessel has Human life signs aboard. It seems to have sustained significant battle damage, reactor is nearing critical levels." _I report to my commander._

 _He examines the image, soon responding,_ "The ship looks like some of the old Concordiat craft I've seen in images, but none were in active military service by the time you and the original colonists left Earth."

"Perhaps this is all the fleet can assemble anymore; there were many ancient vessels in mothballs on Mars. Judging by the conventional radio emissions, as well as the other outdated systems, the vessel is extremely primitive."

 _As we speak, the craft fires energy weapons at a foe out of visual range, and ultraviolet beams suddenly flash through the sky, impacting the_ Waterloo _and cutting through its hull_. _Its reactor finally gives in. The ship explodes, shattering into 7.4 thousand fragments, none of which pose a threat to myself._

 _General Graham curses,_ "Check for survivors. Who the hell fired?"

 _I find no life signs, and the General curse again, saddened by the loss of life._

 _Though I did not know them, I feel some of the pain Graham is feeling, I feel anguish towards their killers._

 _I will avenge them._

 _Another contact appears on my sensors, and is roughly the same size as the last one. This contact does not even_ resemble _any vessels in my database, as I know of no species that uses a craft shaped like an Earth-squid. The vessel is also emitting similar signals to unmanned craft, and it begins to slow as I feel its sensors detect me._

 _The sensor sweep by the potentially-hostile unknown contact moves me to Full Battle Alert mode. A three-missile salvo of Surface-to-Space Missiles are automatically readied, and loaded with standard warheads. I place them on standby however, unwilling to utilize expendable munitions so quickly without chance of resupply._

 _I swivel my #1 Hellbore in the bogey's direction, and within .01 seconds I am ready for battle, all weapons locked on target._

 _I inform General Graham._ "Blow those bastards to pieces."

 _The squid-shaped vessel fires. My battle screens are unaffected. Nevertheless, I ensure that power flow is maintained._

 _Contrary to popular belief, battle screen strength is not measured in percentages. Either a projectile makes it through, or it does not. There is no middle ground as in typical science fiction. Whether or not a battle screen can stop a projectile is based upon the amount of power they are provided. Despite the inaccurate, percentages remain in works of fiction to this day, due to their usefulness as a means to build tension._

 _I designate the contact as hostile in reply, and open fire with my operational Primary 200cm Hellbore._

 _The round impacts upon the side of the craft, the impact tearing a massive hole in its side. Strange. I send maintenance units to examine the ammunition. That round should have eliminated it as a combat effective._

 _Still, the damage has forced it to withdraw; swiftly it fires main engines, and attempts to move behind a mountain. Momentarily unable to rely upon my Hellbores, I deactivate my anti-ship missiles and ready a tactical nuclear device._

 _The enemy is eliminated._

 _I run a check over all systems. My weapons and targeting arrays are fully functional. The round is at fault; it had been one of those manufactured during the Battle of Celeste, when total quality could not be verified._

 _I discard all remaining Hellbore needles remaining from that conflict, finding flaws in each one surveyed; simultaneously, General Graham and I discuss what to do next._

 _During our discussion, I receive another distress call, the only one that can be made out through the mass of static, and other distant voices too thin to be picked up…_

 **XXXXX**

Corporal Robert Thorne was the highest ranking Systems Alliance marine left in the vicinity of _Surveyor 2_ Research Outpost.

After the marine detachment from the _Waterloo_ got shot down, the survivors had tried to continue in their mission to extract the outpost's personnel. A Reaper destroyer had chased off their frigate before the squad could do much, and blown up the remaining shuttles.

A troop transport had deployed a large amounts of husks to hunt down the survivors after the destroyer left, most likely to prepare an LZ for an assault on the nearby secret weapon ranges.

Most of the squad had been killed, along with nearly all of the base's security team and civilian researchers.

There were only nine people left, and they had been hiding in the fuel depot near the shuttle pad, desperately trying to keep the distress beacon working. Thorne had been watching his field of fire over the launch pad, when the fireworks started.

At first all they could see was a flash of orange over the mountain, in the direction the _Waterloo_ had fled. _Poor Captain Sumner,_ Thorne thought, _and the rest of the crew! I doubt any managed to get out alive…_

Thorne's thoughts were shattered by another flash of light, blue this time. Tremors followed the blinding light, knocking over the husks on the other side of the launch pad. Inside the shelter the Systems Alliance troopers were hiding in, the grenade box fell over and spilled everywhere along with the ammunition. Their small amount of spare pistols and rifles that sat in a corner were scattered, an already heavily damaged computer fell off a table into tiny pieces, and the carefully protected, but already heavily damaged transmitter shattered on the titanium floor. Their technician, Private Gagarin, said cynically "Dammit, there goes our only hope." as one of the scientists began sobbing.

Thorne meanwhile, was trying to figure out where the tremors and light were coming from; after a quick analysis, he found that both came from the direction of the frigate's retreat.

The Reaper suddenly returned as he mused. But instead of attacking, the destroyer seemed to be...fleeing?

They could see why. A streak of light followed it, and struck the enemy vessel. Atomic fire completely obliterated it.

All the husks that could be seen ceased in their activities, and began moving towards the mountains, where whatever had destroyed their master lay.

In disbelief, but thankful for the distraction, Corporal Thorne moved his unit out of the shed; towards the relative safety of a bunker in the mountains.

The troop transport shuddered to life, and readied what looked like a pair of heavy railguns.

Thorne gave a silent salute, knowing that whoever had been manning that artillery piece was almost certainly dead.

To his surprise, the transport never got the chance to even take off. Another streak, probably a missile, hit its engine compartment. The missile blasted the rear end apart, the pieces flying outward, and the burning forward section crushed a portion of the base.

That wasn't what they were watching, however. They were watching the moving mountain.

A turret poked out from the the top of a hill, or behind it rather. Two more turrets appeared, and a rectangular shape appeared beneath them. A streak of light reflected off metal, blinding the group momentarily. What they saw afterwards was a huge vehicle, nearly as big as a frigate, but unlike any Reaper or Human device they had seen. It had driven out of the mountain range, and was working its way towards the _Surveyor 2_ outpost.

It bristled with weapons, everything from three giant guns on the top, to tiny anti-personnel turrets in the lowest area. There were massive treads carrying the whole leviathan, each bigger than a Kodiak shuttle, with dozens of the little turrets stationed right above them. There were rows of larger ball turrets mounted a few meters above the anti-personnel guns, and above that, on the sloped hull section and the top, two rows of two types of artillery sat. Sitting on the highest area of the vehicle were three massive turrets, one of which, the highest one, was damaged, but the lower forward ones were very much alive. They pointed towards the sky, and the valley should have shaken as they began to pound away.

Thorne continued to watch, and saw the Reaper husks bearing arms shooting at the vehicle. Thorne was quite surprised to see the ease with which its anti-personnel guns cut up and with ease, blast apart the horrid Cannibals; those that he and his friends had barely managed to drive off.

The moving mountain drove carefully around the base, hitting each and every husk with every shot.

The marine realized it wasn't moving at random. It was coming specifically for _them_.

Though they felt fear, they did not run. It had just saved them from a Reaper, and if it wanted them dead, they wouldn't even know it.

It stopped short of the marines, and a hatch opened in the hull near the treads. An armored figure appeared, and started waving, while a voice suddenly came through the radios of the group. Clearly Human and male, it said "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

The unknown person, after failing to get the outpost survivors moving, began to hop out to them. Thorne's instincts overcame his shock, and he immediately aimed his rifle at the new arrival, "Halt! Identify yourself!"

The figure stopped short, holding a strange type of weapon in his arms, and wore a set of armor that was even more unusual, completely different from the marines. Thickly padded armor plates covered the torso, with similar plating over the leg and arm sections. Even his gloves were armored to an extend, so much that barely half a centimeter of fabric was revealed. His helmet had only a small slit to see out of, but the mouthplate was grilled, carried a headlamp, and a number of other parts that Thorne couldn't even tell what they were.

On the chestplate was an area that seemed to be for a nametag, but was currently blank. On the shoulder plate was a unit patch, that read, "1st Armored Assault Brigade, CDF", and under it was a silhouette of the massive machine.

He replied to Thorne's question, "I'm General Graham, commander of this Bolo. We don't have much time! You need to get onboard now."

Thorne's surprise turned to relief, not caring at all what black ops unit this guy was with, or who exactly he was, just that he seemed to know what to do, and was offering shelter from the Reapers. "Sir, yes sir!"

Orange lights flashed as the ramp closed behind the nine survivors staggering into the bay. As blue interior lights winked on, the room came into view. Dozens of crates, boxes, containers, and storage racks filled the room, covered in various labels and images. None of the equipment did they recognize.

 **XXXXX**

General Graham led the shocked group of survivors into Hector's storage bay, he gestured to the supplies, "You all can use the cots and aid supplies we have in here, just don't touch any of the weapon systems."

Hector chimed in, "If assistance is required, I would be happy to provide it using the visual display."

One of the soldiers groaned, "Someone turn that thing off! A VI's the last thing we need!"

Graham yanked off his helmet, and went to the soldier who had helped move the group, and was now slumped over a crate, "Trooper, you in charge here?" the general asked.

The poor man went, "Wha…?", then jumped to his feet and saluted, saying in a tired voice "Corporal Robert Thorne, formerly attached to the SSV _Waterloo_. I'm the highest ranking officer left in our little group," he sat back onto the crate, "Thanks for saving us, the battle has been going badly we last heard. No one was responding."

Graham nodded, thankful that he had listened to Hector's briefing, and put a reassuring hand on the other man's shoulder, "Well, you're safe now. We've got 32,000 tons of armor and Hellbores above our heads. Follow me up to the command deck."

Barely waiting for an answer, Jamie led Thorne through a short confusing network of tunnels, filled with only guidance lights. They emerged into the command center, right above the Bolo personality center.

Graham jumped into the commander's chair. Thorne settled down in an observer seat, as he muttered, "This is all 'gonna shoot you for seeing' classified, right?"

The general ignored that comment, and instead asked Hector for a status update. In response, the tank said,"Two 'Sovereign' class vessels eliminated in lunar orbit. Seven destroyer class vessels also eliminated."

"Wait, what?" Thorne asked in disbelief.

"We've been trying to help out in the battle upstairs," Graham explained rapidly, "But it hasn't been going too well. We're having too much trouble picking out friendlies from the hostiles. So we can't do anything about enemy units beyond lunar orbit."

"Lunar orbit? What the hell are you talking about?"

Graham facepalmed, _Earth had to become a Leibowitz-type planet, didn't they?_

Leibowitz-types were always a pain. Their past forgotten, it was always hard for Concordiat forces to convince colonists that they were part of the same people; even harder to bring them back up to speed.

"Do you know where the nearest spaceport is, corporal?" Graham finally asked, "Even with our help the battle's already lost."

The blue lights to indicate the "Systems Alliance" craft, as the successor to the Concordiat called itself, were rapidly blinking out even as he spoke.

"But...But…"

"Corporal Thorne!" Graham roared, "Pull yourself together! Where is the nearest spaceport?"

Before the shell-shocked marine could break down in a superior's arms, relief came. "General, we have three contacts inbound to our location," Hector reported, "One cruiser sized, two corvette sized. They appear to be trying to avoid detection by hugging the ground. The smaller craft silhouettes bear a strong similarity to the SSV _Waterloo_ , indicating a 90% probability that they are friendly forces."

At the mention of the _Waterloo_ , Thorne snapped out of it. He requested to see the ships, images immediately appearing in front of him.

"Corporal, do you recognize any of these craft?" the general asked.

Thorne studied them carefully, then said to Graham, "Those are Alliance ships alright, but they have some odd configurations I can't recognize, sir. The largest one looks like an SA carrier, and the other two look like frigates. Old ones at that."

Hector cut in and said to Jamie, "The Systems Alliance carrier is attempting to contact us, shall I put them through, General?"

"Yes, please!" the general responded urgently.

An exhausted voice, but filled with authority nonetheless, echoed within Hector's command center, a little choppy as it started.

"...Repeat, this is Major Marshall of the SSV _Ark Royal_ to unknown craft. Identify yourself immediately."

Graham responded calmly, "This is General Graham of the Cloud Defense Force, in command of Bolo Unit 'Hector'. We request immediate assistance."

The channel was silent for a few moments, then Marshall responded in a stunned voice, "Affirmative sir! What assistance do you require?"

General Graham grinned as he relayed their needs, "We need immediate evac to the closest friendly stronghold for repairs and rearmament. As well as an update on the battle…" He paused, thinking of an excuse, "You could say...we've been out of the loop a bit."

Information flooded Hector's comm relays like a river as Marshall said, "General, haven't you heard? 4th Fleet's nearly gone! All remaining ships have been ordered into a general retreat!"


	2. Chapter 2: The Council

" _This was no disciplined march, it was a stampede. Without order and without a goal. Six million people unarmed and unprovisioned, driving headlong. It was the beginning of the rout of civilization, of the massacre of mankind."_

 _-_ HG Wells, War of the Worlds

 **Citadel Security Interrogation Room D24-A**

 **Current Occupant- James Graham**

 **[Alert] No known records of occupant on file!**

 **Charge- Impersonation of Systems Alliance Military Officer, attempting to smuggle an AI onboard, and stealing experimental military hardware**

 **XXXXX**

The security officer walked slowly into the interrogation room, reading the datapad he held with a relaxed hand.

Inside the chamber was a soldier who was currently giving the appearance of someone who was desperately, desperately bored.

General Graham was missing his armor, and wore only his fatigues, having given no resistance to station security when they removed it. The general did not bother trying to escape either, for the same reason he had given his Bolo to hold fire.

After the rag-tag remains of 4th Fleet had come to this "Citadel" space station, Graham had been asked a casual question about Hector by Thorne, wondering what type of VI he was. He had mentioned something about the dock sensors detecting strong computer heuristics emanating from Hector's hull.

Immediately after correcting the marine, every gun on the dock was pointed at Jamie. His sidearm and armor were confiscated, and the CDF general was locked in a cell with a parade of various interrogators.

 _Hope we can clear this misunderstanding up_ , Graham thought, _These people are the closest we have to friends here, and it'd be a shame to lose them._ He snorted aloud, _Hope Hector hasn't scared them too badly either._

The C-Sec(Something Graham had seen on signs during his arrest) officer suddenly sat down, scattering the general's thoughts.

"Okay, 'General' Graham is it? I'm Commander Bailey," the C-Sec officer said getting right to business.

Sighing, he said, "Sorry for taking so long. Everyone here was so surprised by your equipment, and uh…" he looked at his datapad again, then continued "...armored fighting vehicle, that they just kept passing the buck. They also needed someone with a lot of experience, so I jumped at the chance. Firing a desk isn't as much fun as you would think. But I don't have a lot of time to play games."

Looking grim, he leaned across the table, his breath smelling of a spicy food, "So why don't you answer my questions, and we don't have to get rough."

Jamie Graham nodded agreeably. This was someone he might be able to work with. "Alright, I'll bite." He hesitated, "Not sure you'll like all my answers."

Bailey keyed a button on his datapad, then started, "To be clear, you are being held on on charges of illegal possession of an AI-unshackled no less- stealing experimental military hardware, impersonating a Systems Alliance officer…" Bailey looked further down the page, "There are a few more minor charges, but they're all connected to the first three. Would you care to make a statement?"

Graham sighed, "I'd have to plead not guilty on all counts. I _am_ actually a general, just not in your military. The 'experimental' military hardware is assigned to me, and where I come from, the AI is not illegal."

The commander barely reacted, "Oh really? What formal military other than the Alliance recruits Humans, let alone have them as high ranking officers?"

Graham stated proudly, "The Cloud Defense Force!"

Commander Bailey stared, wondering how the hell this guy was coming across as so sane and yet obviously spouting nonsense.

The door suddenly hissed open.

There stood a Human male unlike the others General Graham had seen so far. He did not wear C-Sec blue; instead he wore a leather jacket with a red stripe, with two white stripes on the shoulders, the symbol "N7" sat next to a red triangle on the left side of the chest. He wore military boots and fatigues however, the same as all the other soldiers.

"Shepard? I didn't get word you were coming down here." Bailey said with a small grin as he went over to the new arrival, and after they shook hands, he asked in a lower voice, "Anything good come from the Council?"

Shepard replied in an equally low voice, "Not exactly...Tell you more later," then he went over to Graham's chair.

"So, they tell me you are General Graham?" He extended a hand which the other man looked at in momentary surprise, "I'm Commander Shepard, Spectre and Alliance Navy."

Graham smiled in relief at the polite greeting(in contrast to the cold greetings from C-Sec), standing to shake his hand and said, "Pleased to meet you, Shepard."

"I'm making arrangements for better accommodations for you General." Shepard said, "My apologies that things got a little SNAFU'd." He glanced around the little room equipped as it was with two plastic chairs and a table.

"It's all right Commander," Graham said graciously, giving Bailey a little smile, as he spoke, "Your colleague was just starting the meet and greet."

 **XXXXX**

Shepard sent out for some more comfortable chairs, food and some coffee. Clearly he was under orders to treat Graham as a potential ally rather than a hostile (or a crazy which is where Bailey seemed to want to go with it).

This was quite a relief. They had a lot of ground to cover and the conversation went on for some time. Shepard wanted to know everything Graham was willing to tell him: what this Cloud place is, where it was, how Graham got to Luna, and what the Bolo was.

Graham wasn't really able to get a good read on the relative rank of his two questioners. After a while he worked out that they were possibly in two competing branches.

The Spectre started, "Your war machine…"

"Bolo," Graham corrected, speaking with his mouth full as he dug into his first fresh meal in a year.

Graham swallowed the massive bite of what he hoped was beef, not actually caring if it wasn't. The food on the tray was not food bars, or emergency rations, or those damn beetles, but a large steak with a side of rice, and beans. It had cutlery, and honest-to-god coffee, not caffeine pills. He inhaled the food as though it were air.

The last fresh meal he had had, was back in his regiment's officers mess. Knowing the terrible cooking of the regiment, it was probably still rotting on the floor where it had fallen, even rats turning up their nose at it.

Shepard continued, "Right, sorry. Your Bolo...we had a report that it was controlled by AI, is this true?"

Graham replied "Yes, it's true. Bailey mentioned something about that earlier. Is there a problem?"

Bailey stated matter-of-factly, "AI are illegal in Citadel Space. Normally they are to be disposed of, but the law's been caught up in committee again."

Graham's eyes widened slightly as he finished up his meal quickly, and he asked politely, "Why? What's the problem with Hector?"

Bailey had been growing a bit agitated with this discussion, his answer reflecting his mood, "The problem is that _it_ has access to weapons that could annihilate this station 10 times over! Why would you program that capability into your AI?"

Graham responded with a chuckle, yet equally agitated, "Oh no, that's not exactly normal. Usually, he needs his commander to tell him to attack. But I allowed him to access it whenever he wanted."

Bailey sputtered something that sounded like, "You _are_ crazy."

Graham snapped, "If I hadn't, a few thousand refugees, many of which were civilians I might add, would have been killed while Hector waited for my orders. Just like the first time!"

Commander Shepard stepped in before the conflict could escalate, "Wait, you never said anything about refugees. Did something happen on your homeworld? Civil war maybe?"

Graham looked away and said quietly, "No. Not a civil war. See...Back home, on Cloud, Hector, around two thousand five hundred refugees, and I were on the run, trying to avoid getting killed by the !*!*!."

This strange name and information brought Bailey to attention as well.

The Spectre asked, "What are these," he paused, trying to figure out how to pronounce the name, "...creatures, are they aliens?"

General Graham nodded, "The !*!*! are a race of killer robots. We believe they originated in the core of the galaxy."

The two commanders exchanged worried looks. Had they encountered the Clackers before?

Graham went on, "50 T-standard years ago, one of our exploration vessels, the _Empyrion_ , picked up E-M transmissions from the core, and set out to find whatever intelligent life there might be. They went missing."

Bailey interrupted, "...And that's why you built the giant tank?"

Graham growled, and then replied, "If that was true, it would be a mark _one_ Bolo, not a Mark _33_." He paused, taking a sip of his coffee, "Hector is a mark 33. We've been at this a long time gentlemen. Long enough to get pretty good at it. So we thought, anyway."

As the two officers gaped, Graham ignored them and continued with his tale.

"A year ago, an alien fleet attacked our world. They had followed the path of the _Empyrion_ after capturing it, and used the ship's codes to bypass and destroy our defenses. Hector and his original commander had identified them as a threat, but were ordered to stand down by the general on watch at the Cloud Military Command HQ," He clenched his hand slightly at the mention of the other general.

"Hector was unable to ignore those orders and stood down, about 8 minutes and 21 seconds before a mass driver round destroyed the biggest military base on Cloud." Graham could hear how his own voice went dead, It was the only way to keep talking.

"By the time we managed to figure out what had happened, our space defense was gone and our ground forces decimated. The aliens demanded our surrender, or they would massacre those already captured."

He closed his eyes, and paused, thinking back to those chaotic days. The mass driver strike on Celeste decimating his unit, the hovertanks, Ground Effect Vehicles(GEVs), and aircraft falling out of the sky in flames. He remembered his failed attempts to rally the troops, the ensuing one-sided firefights. The destruction wrought upon the landscape as the Clackers rolled across the remains of battlefields. They were taking away the wounded, then cracking open power armor and disabled tanks, that still held live men.

The screams they made...Jesus, the _screams_.

Graham took a deep breath, and continued "It sounded good, living instead of death on a planetary scale. They then herded all of us into camps, several thousand of us, and we have spent the past year as slaves."

"Hector though, Hector…" his voice cracked, and Graham grabbed a cup of water to cover it.

Drinking it down, he continued, "The asteroid flipped, literally _flipped_ a 32,000 ton Bolo end over end, and he landed upside down, countra-grav and battle screens offline. The Clackers drilled through his hull, and put in a few 'implants'.

They suppressed his personality. Before the Killing, Hector had been pretty talkative, heck he was a bit of a snob to boot. But what the !*!*! did...They pretty much made him into an overly qualified camp guard."

He opened his eyes, stared at his hands white knuckling his coffee cup, trying to remember the last time he'd had decent coffee.

After a lengthy pause, Shepard slowly spoke, "General, where is your colony, Cloud?"

Alarms began blaring all of a sudden, drowning out the Spectre's words, as a Turian C-Sec officer ran in, and said, "Sirs! We have a huge problem. We've got reports of a parasitic infection going across the station!"

The commanders went over to the slightly panicked officer and quietly inquired for more information, with the captive General only hearing snatches of conversation, "...Started in the docking bays...lice outbreak...fleas, somehow...flu strain is causing serious problems...fungal infections…"

After gathering sufficient information, General Graham cleared his throat, to interrupt the conversation "Sounds like you guys are dealing with the 'creeping crud', and the flu..." he paused sheepishly, "I've been hitting the decongestants a lot the past week. I may have infected you all with something.

The three were shocked for a moment, then Bailey spoke up, "You know what this thing is?"

Commander Bailey's eyes narrowed, "Is it a bioweapon?"

Graham looked bewildered, saying "What? What's wrong with you? Of course it's not a bio-weapon!"

Shepard asked the C-Sec officers, "Why didn't anyone get General Graham decontaminated?"

The other two shrugged and the 2nd officer said timidly(for a Turian), "We've got a lot of refugees coming in…"

As the alien officer went off to get a decontamination team, Shepard asked, "So, what is the other stuff then?"

Graham answered, "The creeping crud is a combination of about 50 different fungal infections and illnesses, such as lice and fleas. The flu? It's just the flu, probably a different strain than you're used to though."

"Let me guess. The fleas, lice, and all that other crap got on the station the same way as the flu, right?" Bailey asked.

Graham looked a little embarrassed again as he said, "Uh, yeah… I'm really sorry, but I'm patient zero for that too. I've got lice _and_ fleas."

Staring at the not-so-surprising-anymore startled faces, Graham nearly shouted, "Oh come on! You try living in a prison camp for a year on dirt floors!"

He added with a grimace, "I've even got worms!"

Shepard shook his head, disgusted, then asked, "Alright, so you mentioned something about a different flu?"

General Graham replied, "Oh, sorry. Considering how you people are from a different part of the galaxy than I, your vaccines probably don't have this strain. I was actually scheduled for a flu shot a month after the attack."

Shepard and Bailey both demanded "Do you have any vaccines for us to analyze?"

Graham said with a small smile, "Do I have any? Well, I don't have any actual samples, but I do have the synthesis information."

Just as the commanders began to relax, he added, "...Except they're all in Hector's databases and medicinal facilities."

The smile faded from Bailey's face(although not in Shepard's case) and he asked, "How can we obtain them? Your Bolo's incapacitated every team we sent near to disable it!"

Graham replied in a raised voice, "Of course he did! His commander has been captured by unknown and potentially hostile forces! The only reason we're still talking is the fact that I ordered him to stay put, watch my vitals, defend himself with non-lethal force only, and rescue me just in case things went badly."

"I surrendered to your men to try and negotiate, I thought there was some misunderstanding." He added quietly.

With no other means to cure the afflictions of the station, Commander Shepard led the CDF General out of the interrogation room. Once Graham was decontaminated, Shepard brought him over to the inventory desk, and told the C-Sec officer on duty to hand over General Graham's equipment.

After retrieving his armor in a box, and reattaching his armtop, Graham hesitated, and asked where his sidearm was. The Human C-Sec officer replied, "Sorry sir. Your are not at present licensed to openly carry a firearm on the Citadel. It will be returned when you depart."

The officer then looked a little embarrassed, and added, "...First we will need to put it back together though, sorry. We kind of took it apart while examining it."

 **XXXXX**

 **En Route to C-Sec Impound Lot 24**

 **Current Inventory: One experimental Armored Fighting Vehicle**

 **All other vehicles removed by order of C-Sec**

 **XXXXX**

Accompanied by a C-Sec escort, Graham and Shepard took an air car to Hector's location. The ride was relatively uneventful, with the exception of Shepard continuing to bombard Graham with questions "We haven't been able to get very good scans of your Bolo, general. We can barely tell what his paint job is made of, much less his armor plating, and we haven't been detecting any element zero. Is there some sort of jamming field blocking us?"

The general, wanting to end the long and awkward conversation, replied, "It may be that Hector is using his cyber warfare suite to block your scans, or his combat screens are doing it. Either way, don't try it further. You mentioned that some of your men were incapacitated by security systems? That's an understatement for what an angry Bolo can and will do, to entire _armies_."

The best response the Spectre could think of was, "Oh...okay..." No further questions were asked for the remainder of the trip.

Where the group landed, there was a C-Sec blockade keeping people out of the cargo bay's general area, both its large blast doors and side entrance.

Shepard simply stepped out of the car, and the security officers allowed him and Graham through to the side entrance, but not without a fair share of odd looks.

The two reached the small airlock, and after it cycled through, entered the massive chamber.

Sitting in the center of the room was a certain Bolo Mk. XXXIII.

Graham grinned and said loudly, "I have returned, Hector! And I brought a friend."

Shepard merely gaped at the immense size of the armored fighting vehicle(AFV), and its weaponry. He had seen pictures, but hadn't actually been close to the thing! There were antipersonnel weapons mounted to the tread skirts, above several rows of treads, with bogies taller than he was. Ball turrets were above them, holding the beast's "infinite repeaters" Graham had called them.

Several batteries of artillery, missile bays, and sensors the Spectre couldn't even comprehend were mounted on the slanted upper sides. And then there were the big guns, each the size of a house. They sat motionless, turned inwards, most likely for transport, although one's barrel was pointed up, a massive dent in the dome, and apparently inoperable. The marine reports said that even one of the repeaters put out more firepower than an Everest Class dreadnought. The bigger ones? Maybe even more than a _Reaper_.

An artificial voice echoed through the chamber from speakers embedded in the tank's armor, as Hector replied, "Acknowledged, my commander. I trust you are unharmed, General Graham?"

The general's grin grew broader, "That's affirmative, Hector," Graham walked toward a hatch that opened in the Bolo's undercarriage, gesturing for a disbelieving Shepard to follow, "Actually, they need _our_ help. Can you bring up your medical database when we get inside?"

 **XXXXX**

 **Citadel Presidium**

 **Confidential Negotiation Chambers**

 **Currently in use to discuss newly discovered colony, identified as "Cloud"**

 **XXXXX**

After the vaccines had been examined, fabricated, and distributed by C-Sec, Graham was given an audience by the Citadel Council's head members, who had recognised Cloud as an independent state. General Graham noted that it was very odd, accepting a new nation so fast.

He thought maybe Hector had been what assured recognition.

At least the cover story would hold for a while. Officially they were part of a lost human colony that only recently regained contact with the galactic community. Unlike the previous one on Alpha Centauri though, the colony was not split down the middle about contact. Instead, they wanted contact, to get help in repelling a minor Reaper force.

The main goal of the meeting was to discuss Graham's place in the war, Cloud's situation, whether or not to send in a task force, and finally, what to do with the Bolo.

They were not in the usual council chambers. Instead they were given a room designated for private meetings, one with a horseshoe shaped table and a display in front of it.

As Graham(who had changed into a dark blue and silver CDF dress uniform) and Shepard waited for the meeting to start, the general glanced around at all the other species in the chamber.

Graham had been given access to a Systems Alliance database called "The Codex", which contained a vast amount of information on the current state of the galaxy. Graham learned that alongside Humanity, the three main species in power over the galaxy were the Turians, the Salarians, and the Asari.

Graham was unfamiliar with the new species, and wanted to see them in person, rather than pictures.

The council members slowly trickled in, as to attend this meeting, they had to cancel several other meetings about the war in their respective sectors.

The first to come in were the Human and Turian delegates, arguing over ship deployments. The Turian's scaly skin, three fingers, and body shape reminded Graham of Earth's former Velociraptor species.

The next one to arrive was the Salarian representative, a tall cloak wearing individual. What little Graham could see from under the cloak possessing wide eyes, a thin, long head, and skin like the extinct toad, but he(or she) also reminded the general of the Tolun.

The fourth delegate, the Asari representative, was particularly interesting to Graham, as most species that the Concordiat of Man and Cloud had encountered were very alien. Usually, the constant similarities(if any)between alien physiologies would be two eyes, and occasionally bipedal, like the Tolun. The Asari on the other hand, except for the ridges on the head and blue skin color, could easily pass as a human female.

As General Graham stared at the three different species, Shepard was reviewing the images, subjects, and notes that were required for the meeting. Noticing that the general's stares were discomforting for the others in the chamber, Shepard tapped him on the shoulder, and said,

"General? We need to go over our notes before we begin," the Spectre then lowered his voice, "And your staring is disturbing a few people."

Slightly embarrassed, Jamie returned to the presentation.

After a time, the Asari council member, named Tevos, announced, "This emergency Citadel Council meeting will now come to order. We are here to discuss the urgent matter surrounding the Bolo fighting vehicle. Are there any points or motions on the floor?"

Sparatus, the Turian, raised his hand, and immediately stated, "It is the opinion of both myself and the Turian Hierarchy that we discuss how to dispose of the Bolo combat AI. It poses a great threat to this station, and all of its demand that it be taken offline, then be replaced with VI systems and organic pilots."

Graham was utterly confused by this statement, and he raised his hand, "Point of information. What exactly is the problem with my AI? He would be far more efficient than some primitive computer system at attacking the Reapers."

"The problem is that it **is** an AI, and could doom us all at any moment!" Sparatus growled out of turn.

Shepard, sensing the impending argument, put forward a motion, "Point of order. Considering the AI's apparent excellence at combat, and in the interest of diplomacy, I motion that we open instead with the topic of its usefulness, and decide what to do with it, rather than thinking of ways to get rid of it."

The other council members agreed, and with enough seconds, they settled into a moderated caucus.

Graham raised his hand first to put forward a statement, "The Cloud government would like to point out that if the AI is removed, the Bolo's combat effectiveness will be extremely decreased. We recommend that he-it, must not be modified. Bolos have operated for centuries with these computer systems, and our colonies have benefited from them immensely."

Councilor Tevos put forward her own statement, "The chair requests a point of information. The AFV requires this computational power in order to be effective in combat. Would you care to expand upon that point?"

The CDF general nodded, and brought up a comparison of two vehicles on the center screen. One looked very similar to the Mk. XXXIII in the impound lot, but was instead labeled as a Mk. XXV. It looked much more pristine, the paint was bright, clear, and the hull lacked Hector's battle damage. The guns were of a much smaller size and shape, and there were only two main cannons.

The second vehicle looked like some of the more primitive tank designs from many of the present species' history, with multiple turrets of various kinds. However, it seemed more wisely built, constructed like a modern naval vessel with its missile silos, point defense cannons, and angular hull. There were also hatches all over the hull unlike the Bolo next to it. There was also a chart offset to the left, with the label "crewmembers" above six human figures.

The rotating images were replaced by live camera feed of the two vehicles side by side, on some sort of obstacle course. There were dozens of vehicles, infantry formations, and bunkers along the track, which was a mock-up of a destroyed city.

Graham began narrating, "Experiments run over the years have proven time and again the individual superiority of a Bolo versus a manned tank, as you will see here with a Mk. XXV."

On the screen, the Bolo drove full steam through the enemy formations, blasting tanks apart with its secondary batteries, shooting down aircraft, drones, hovercraft, and surface-to-surface missile with laser clusters and guided missiles of its own. It used artillery and anti-personnel railguns to tear through the power armored infantry, and just ran over bunkers with treads.

The manned tank took several tries to make it through its own course, getting blasted by a tank destroyer ambush the first time. Lucky shots kept damaging it all the way through, and when it finally finished, the thing's treads were shattered and it couldn't move.

"However, they don't do as well working without a commander, which can lead to several judgement failures despite their access to all of human combat knowledge."

On one of the Bolo's attempts, it moved onto a new street, and instantly there was a flash under its treads. A crater was formed, which the tank promptly drove into. Enemy units popped out of every other building and began blasting the crippled vehicle. "It couldn't think like the enemy, or very creatively. A tactical nuclear landmine destroyed this Bolo's forward outer and inner port treads, and critically damaged the bogies. It was unable to get out of the crater."

The manned tank, when it came across the same section, began to advance. It did so slowly however, as several sensors popped out, and began probing the ground. It halted, and a drone appeared from a top hatch, then began digging around an area. Underneath a destroyed air-car it found the nuke, and ripped out the detonation circuit. They quickly retreated as the enemy units began to open fire on them.

Graham switched the Bolo feed to another attempt, and said, "This is the Bolo with a commander coming across that same incident."

The Bolo turned the corner, and an audio file from the commander popped up, "Hold on, Ben. This is the perfect opportunity for a trap. Face left! "

The Mk. XXV turned left, and while driving behind the cover of an office building, sent out a probe to disarm the mine. As the mine was retrieved, the Bolo drove right through the buildings, smashing the carefully emplaced ambush equipment and personnel alike. However, while it was dealing with the survivors, it began taking fire from the opposite side.

"Deploy the nuke!" the commander called out.

Instead of using a weapon from its own arsenal, the Bolo sent the drone carrying the nuke over to the intact side. The drone released the tactical nuke, and a mushroom cloud destroyed the rest of the ambush.

Graham spoke again, "Despite the evolution of the Bolos over the years, while they have gotten smarter and more independent, they still require commanders to provide the out-of-the-box thinking that they require."

Valern, the Salarian representative, raised a hand, and asked, "While it works well in the simulations, how does the vehicle operate in active combat?"

The general nodded, and activated the central display again.

Paused video footage appeared on the screen of a grey planetoid surface, as holographic topographical maps of a battlefield appeared in front of each delegate..

Graham began to speak, "On May 16th 2186, at 1200 hours, myself and Hector somehow were transported by unknown means from Cloud to Luna, Earth's moon, during the Reaper attack on the Sol system."

A blue trapezoid appeared on the map, and the video footage was unpaused, with the camera looking about.

"After momentary confusion, thanks to an ancient crashed probe, we discovered where we were, and began getting information about the battle occurring in Earth orbit from one of our recon drones."

Graham continued, while a white blip appeared higher up on the map and moved fast towards the first, "We soon encountered the SSV Waterloo, but it was quickly destroyed and we found no survivors. Following its flight pattern was a Reaper destroyer, which damaged Hector's shields, but both of us were unharmed."

A red triangle appeared on the map, and little points representing weapons fire between the pair of icons.

Despite a few of the council members looking at their displays with barely disguised alarm, the general went on,

"Hector's defense protocol activated, and he fired one of his 200cm Hellbores, which only weakened the enemy shielding," the gun camera footage on screen pointed at the squid, and it went into static for a moment, then showed the monster's glistening shielding, "He then used both operational primary Hellbores and some of his secondaries to destroy the vessel."

The gun camera went a little grey again as the cannon fired, then revived and showed the explosions going through the Reaper's hull.

Councilor Udina, astonished as the rest, knew that such swift destruction was impossible. This man must be forging evidence to protect his pet.

He interrupted with a smug tone, "Are you sure you destroyed it? It could have been only disabled. And why have we seen only minimal battle damage on your war machine if you actually attacked a Reaper?"

Graham looked puzzled with Udina's tone, such disrespect coming from Earth's Council member?

General Graham replied in an equally puzzled tone, "I'm pretty sure we fought and killed a Reaper. It did blow up after we left."

Udina asked, "But surely you couldn't have killed it without sustaining heavy damage in the fight…"

Graham cut the councilor off, "No, no physical damage, Hector's shield capacitors absorbed most of what they threw at us. Though they did decrease the shields a little bit, they were quickly recharged."

Heedless by the stares and gasps of the room, Graham continued, "We followed a nearby distress call to the _Surveyor 2_ Research Outpost, and destroyed the Reaper troop transport that was there. We then rescued the survivors of the base, and were engaged by four Reapers."

The gun camera pointed into the sky at four silhouettes, and it began blasting away, alongside fire from the other weapons.

"We managed to blow up one destroyer when a Hellbore shot entered it's main gun while it was firing, and disabled another," more mild shock erupted from the council, "We were then forced to take cover behind the mountains, and I granted Hector the use of nuclear ordnance. The Sovereign-class was disabled as well as the destroyer."

As the map played out the described events, the council members spoke to one another quietly, with a few checking over the reports made by the survivors of the _Surveyor 2_ outpost.

When they finished speaking, Valern asked, "General, while we admire this fighting vehicle's firepower, we still require more evidence to support specifically the _AI's_ combat effectiveness."

Graham let out a small frustrated sigh, and gestured to Shepard, who fiddled on his Omni-tool for a moment before the holographic display changed. Instead of a battlefield, three planetoids appeared, one fairly standard sized planet, and two smaller moons. Everything in the hologram was outlined in a dark blue color.

In orbit above the large planet were three red points, putting themselves in orbit above a blue point on the planet's surface.

On the council's individual displays, a smaller map, of a camp appeared, it sat in a bay, apparently on the outskirts of a former city. Most of it was surrounded by some sort of barrier, except for one section, guarded by the massive Bolo.

There were several hundred bright blue stick figure icons in the camp, and a smaller fraction of red dots that hovered over the camp and the Bolo. a dozen more blue icons, one with a green arrow over it, were in a corner of the camp.

"In April, exact date unknown, on Cloud, I led a group of CDF prisoners in attempts to 'reboot' Hector. This led to disagreements with General Spratly, the overall commander of CDF and civilian population in the camp, who had a serious dislike for AI. He told me to not repair Hector, and instead to stall him using some maintenance codes we had. I told the general what a terrible idea that was, and he threatened me with a power gun, and was going to turn me over to the !*!*! for...harvesting. I managed to retrieve the weapon in a brawl, and in the chaos from a fire, myself and two others escaped to Hector's position."

Three dots separated from the rest, and rushed up the hill towards the tank. Two dots went in one direction, while the third went in another, a few red dots nearby it winked out.

"We managed to make it to Hector just in time as the Clackers were about to take him apart. I used the power gun to kill several Clackers pursuing us, and boarded Hector through battle damage."

The dots disappeared inside the Bolo's silhouette, and the shadow became a large green trapezoid.

"My team and I destroyed the machinery inhibiting Hector's processing, giving him control again. Opening fire on Clacker forces, he went into the bay to fill his water reserves, in order to manufacture Hellbore needles.""

More red dots disappeared, the Bolo's smallest guns opening fire, and it began moving into the bay. Hector's treads pushed water into the slave pits, and several observers gasped as several dozen dots went out, although in the camp many more red dots disappeared.

"Repairing Hector resulted in a full scale riot, but also attracted the attention of spaceborne !*!*! assets."

The icons on the bigger screen began moving in, and white rod shapes fell towards the blue trapezoid on the surface.

"Clacker High Command spotted Hector's rebellion, and sent in ships to blow him up with mass drivers. There was no way to escape from the potential impacts, so Hector began targeting the projectiles."

Sparatus raised his hand, and asked, "Just to clarify, do you mean that your team designated targets for the computer, like our own GARDIAN defense systems?"

Graham cocked his head to the side, thinking for a moment, and replied in a puzzled tone, "No, target designation on surface planetary defense systems hasn't been reliant on humans for years. Hitting a one-point-five meter wide target at fifty thousand kilometers is incredibly hard for human gunners, for Bolos however, that is a piece of cake."

As Sparatus looked up on the extranet what "a piece of cake" meant, the general continued,

"Unfortunately, his fusion plants could only put out 9.6% power, and was having problems with accuracy and production of munitions. Because of this, my team and I were required to go around inside him, and disable the Clacker probes inhibiting his fusion plant's output."

On the individual displays, security camera footage played out, of a person moving quickly down a metal corridor, brandishing a pistol. It took Shepard a moment to realize that it was Graham.

He looked much different from the man who now stood before the council, wearing tattered rags, that were no longer the blue and silver of the CDF. Graham's ribs showed in places, angry red scars and burns crisscrossed his chest. He had a full head of long hair, plus a beard, and appeared on the end of his rope, about to collapse.

The camera view changed to a different angle, as he turned a corner, blasting a !*!*! drone, then quickly destroying the central one attached to Hector's inner workings.

On the larger screen, a power output indicator appeared in the corner, and after briefly sitting at 9.6%, quickly rose. The view zoomed out, as several Hellbore shots tore into the Battlers, which quickly retreated from firing range.

"Hector heavily damaged the Battlers, and successfully freed the camp, with minimal assistance from humans."

"AI defenses have been the mainstay of Human military might for centuries, without them, we would have lost many wars, or taken way more casualties with victory."

Silence filled the room, the council hiding their reactions behind regularly used expressionless faces.

Tevos slowly said, "We will need to confer on this new evidence." A kinetic barrier went up between the two sides of the room, soundproof to prevent eavesdropping.

Graham went back to his seat and sat down calmly. Shepard awkwardly commented, "You know...It might be better to try to get them on your side. By showing them only Hector's combat effectiveness, or their effectiveness with commanders, you're proving their point that AI are evil, or that basic computers are better. You need to show them more about the AI. You didn't take diplomacy at the officer's academy, did you?"

The general's eyes widened a little, and equally awkward, replied "First contact was a higher priority...and there wasn't much alien negotiation when I signed up."

General Graham then asked, "Why are they so biased towards AI? We did have a lot of arguments back home, but at least it made some sense why those people feared AI."

Shepard sighed, and sadly replied, "It's because of a robotic rebellion that occurred roughly 300 years ago."

He emailed the codex entry to Graham's strange computers, and Shepard could swear he saw little lights in the general's eyes, though not reflections...

The commander shook off the distraction, "A race known as the Quarians had constructed a machine workforce known as the Geth, basic VIs, and conducted modifications on them to improve their efficiency."

On Graham's computer, a rotating display of several types of Geth appeared, as Shepard continued the compressed history lesson. He noticed Graham being slightly puzzled by the designs, and swore he could see a flash of...recognition?

"Unfortunately, they unknowingly went too far, and the VIs developed into AIs. In response, the Quarians tried to shut down the Geth, but it was too late. The Geth War ensued, resulting in the deaths of billions on either side, and the Quarians being forced off of their colonies and homeworld. The survivors now live in the Migrant Fleet, with no home, and no way to reclaim their own, thanks to a lack of Council support," His throat tightened at the thought, the Council was a bunch of jackasses no matter what century!

"This has served as the support for the numerous laws Commander Bailey mentioned, and an incredible hatred for advanced computers. I barely managed to keep my own AI, thanks to a little Spectre status."

General Graham slumped back, initially demoralized. How was he going to fight this?

Then, he had an idea.

He began browsing through some of Hector's historical databases on his arm-top computer, similar to the Alliance Omni-Tool. There had to be something, just in case the Council refused to believe him. After several minutes of near-frantic searching, he found the example he was looking for.

Just in time too, the kinetic barrier fell, and the Council went back to their seats, Udina looking smug as usual, Tevos and Valern with straight faces, but Sparatus looked oddly...satisfied?

Tevos began her statement. "Uncontrolled AI have been proven to exhibit signs of emotional instability, and considering the age of the Bolo, there is a high chance of computer senility. This can lead to uncontrollable destruction and mayhem due to its connection to high power weaponry. There is also no way to prevent its suicide, or the potential that it might find organic life superfluous or a threat. Considering that they require commanders to function properly, it is extremely unsafe to leave one on automatic."

"Both the Turian and Asari governments agree that to prevent potential errors, the Hector AI be either removed from control of the Bolo, or further safeguards be emplaced. This must occur if the Cloud government wishes to receive assistance. Due to the AI's exceptional combat record however, it will not be destroyed, but instead be placed back in CDF custody, along with the shell, as a gesture of good faith to your government."

"However, the rest of the Council does not agree, and we are willing to debate further. Are there any points or motions on the floor?"

There was silence for several minutes as Graham gaped at Tevos' statement.

"I am still concerned with the emotional instability. If it was such a problem for Cloud, why would they use these tanks? General, do you have any further evidence to counter this?" Udina asked, in a rare display of rational thought.

 _Hey, they might be coming to their senses!_ Graham thought hopefully as he stood up.

"Yes Councilor, the Cloud government does have further evidence."

"Historically speaking, we have encountered those problems before. Early marks of Bolos abandoned and forgotten about on distant worlds have been accidentally reactivated and caused destruction. In these cases, the Bolos have been heavily damaged, running low on power, and safeguards intended to prevent AIs from going rogue would make the situation worse. Teams were formed to try and dispose of these Bolos, but rarely succeeded without casualties, some even being eliminated by the AIs."

Video feed from several instances appeared on the center monitor, of Bolos covered in foliage, moving from their long held positions, and blasting everything in sight, in one unfortunate case the camera too. In another particular instance, a Bolo missing its treads, nearly all weapons inoperable, came rising out of the ground, and ran over everything in its path.

"However, on one world, Santa Cruz, a prototype Bolo Mk XXIII had been left on stand-by mode by its chief designer, hoping that she(the AI) would be recovered by command, as they had been forgotten due to an invasion destroying the local HQ."

A 3-D display of a smaller Bolo appeared on screen, rotating slowly. Information scrolled towards the sides, its armament, size, mass, speed, in-direct fire capability, self awareness, and innovations made with the particular type.

"Code-named Nike, she was a revolutionary 'brain-box' design, the first of her type. She was fully autonomous, possessed highly advanced psychotronics far ahead of even the Mk XXV seventy years later, human-level emotions and personality, and the addition of being intuitive and had volition.

She was recovered seventy years after being left alone, by Captain Paul Merrit. He initially hid his discovery, and the two had a growing relationship."

Another display appeared of a battle scene, on a green and lush world, along with an orbital feed of three red squares, two of which winked out quickly after appearing. A green trapezoid moved around several green rectangles, though off in several areas, near an area marked FLT BASE SANCRUZ, and another labeled Ciudad Bolivar, large groups of red rectangles, triangles, squares, and a pair of trapezoids were gathered.

"However, during a training exercise with the planet's militia, a mercenary group had been hired to raid the planet, and had bribed a Dinochrome Brigade officer to assist them. He tried to get Captain Merrit to convince Nike to stand down. When he refused, the officer heavily wounded the captain, and attempted to shut down the Bolo himself.

Having recovered the fleeing injured captain on a skimmer, Nike knew full well that the officer was lying, and her volition allowed her to reject his orders. However disobeying orders from members of the DInochrome Brigade is fatal for a Bolo, it activated the Omega Worm. A computer virus that completely destroys a Bolo's operating system. Despite this, in her last act, Nike assaulted what was left of the merc force."

The battle showed the green trapezoid opening fire at the target in orbit, and destroying the pair of trapezoids on the ground. Finally, with the green rectangles following at a distance, the trapezoid that represented Nike charged towards a large group of red icons. Dozens winked out as Nike blasted, shot, or simply crushed any enemy in sight.

"She outsmarted the manned enemy Golem-IIIs, the equivalent of Bolo mk XXIVs, destroyed the enemy command ship, and wiped out the majority of the mercs. This allowed the militia to launch an assault with their antique equipment, and mop up the survivors."

The Mk XXIII display returned in place of the battlescreen. "Her selfless actions, and effectiveness in battle proved the worthiness of autonomous Bolos. She also proved how the inefficient and inhuman anti-volition programming safeguards poorly affected self-aware Bolo performance. Her psychotronic upgrades were incorporated into the Mk. XXVI Bolo onwards."

Another hologram appeared, satellite footage, instead of a simulation, of a massive battlefield, with unmoving Bolos, some covered in craters, sections blasted off, and even a few that were only frames.

"An example of the effective upgrades would be Bolo Mk. XXVIII Unit Benjy. After the Battle for Santa Cruz, they nearly ceased burning out Bolo personality centers, and they would be upgraded, or removed for use as instructors in academies. Benjy was an experienced combat veteran, boasting over 100 years of service. His obsolete training unit, the Thirty-Ninth Battalion, was pressed into service to defend a nearby colony, that was being invaded by a race called the Melconians. The unit's objective was to punch a hole in the enemy perimeter's rear for the marine forces."

10 Bolos charged at enemy forces, details were hard to spot, but nonetheless blue bolts of energy, missiles, and lasers were exchanged between the two sides. The red icons indicating enemy forces winked out rapidly, taking heavy casualties. Though the green arrows, that represented the Bolos, were still heavily outnumbered, and slowly winked out, one after the other.

"His commander, one Lieutenant Maneka Trevor, upon breaking into their rear, spotted the enemy command post."

A large purple icon appeared, with a line pointing to the largest of a collection of pre-fab bunkers.

A sound monitor appeared in one corner of the screen, attached to a heart rate monitor, and a picture of a young woman, presumably Trevor, dressed in a strange uniform, different from what Graham currently wore. The audio echoed through the speakers, stressed, panicked, and full of anger and fear, "The CP, Benjy! Take the CP!"

Another sound monitor appeared above the lieutenant's, but instead of a person, it showed only his serial number and mark number. His tone was completely different from his commander's, calm but determined, "Acknowledged."

Several more Bolos were blasted by the Melconian forces, several killing blows narrowly avoiding Benjy.

Suddenly, as the camera zoomed in, an enemy mech opened fire on Benjy and Maneka, just as they did the same.

The audio from Benjy played again, still calm, but alarmed, "Hull breach! Hull breach in-"

Lieutenant Trevor's heart rate suddenly spiked on the monitor, then steadily decreased, as the words "Operator Unconscious" flashed rapidly nearby.

Graham calmly explained, "With his commander incapacitated, Benjy had to take independent action. He rallied the rest of the unit, and made one final assault on the CP."

The six battered survivors of the 39th, led by a Bolo whose unit identification number, "862-BNJ" was still barely visible, launched everything they had as the enemy did likewise.

In a pair of volleys, first two, then three survivors were annihilated, and Benjy continued onwards into the jaws of hell alone.

His Hellbore was destroyed, and he ground to a halt on top of the enemy CP. The enemy forces all opened fire on the Bolo, everything they had, and finally, he was overwhelmed. One of the surviving Melconian mechs went in for the kill.

As they all focused upon Benjy, several dozen vehicles appeared in their rear ranks, flying at top speed, labeled as the "9th DIV", and began wreaking havoc upon them.

"Without the safeguards implanted into the earlier marks of Bolo, Benjy, and the 39th as a whole, were able to act with volition and create tactical plans to engage and destroy the enemy. Several hundred million casualties were taken during the invasion, but two billion were alive because of their actions."

After a pause, Sparatus smugly stated "This still doesn't prove that the Hector AI is immune to computer senility, disregarding organic life, insanity, or even simple hacking."

Graham looked angry, but was barely concealing his actual fury, at this questioning of the defenders of humanity.

Through gritted teeth, he said, "Our AI, ever since Nike, have never become senile, except in cases of extreme damage. They have never disregarded human life, even with Friend-or-Foe systems offline they still try to defend us. Ever since the Nike upgrades, no Bolo has ever become senile. Ever since the Nike upgrades, the most paranoid Bolo has not killed itself."

Udina commented, "This changes nothing. Your AI may be immune to computer senility, but as for the rest of my fellow council member's statement, he is correct. There is little to no proof that these combat vehicles are immune to cyber warfare, going rogue-"

" **How dare you?!** "

The roar startled everyone in the room, even Graham himself mildly, as he stood up, leaning forward towards the four council members, his advanced omni-tool's holograms flickering and dying as the motion sensors automatically shut down.

He straightened himself and his uniform, regaining some composure, as he strode to the center of the conference room, and stood at ease.

"The government of Cloud would like to put forward a statement, if it is approved by the chair."

Hesitantly, Tevos agreed.

"We have tried to put forward evidence to convince you to spare my personal friend, Bolo HCT of the Line, but you have completely ignored all of it. By doing this, you are questioning everything I stand for, and sworn to defend. However, I am willing to let it slide in the interest of diplomacy, but only if your governments are willing to listen to reason. Evidence suggests that you are basing all of your conclusions off of an unintentional mistake. A very bad mistake, but unintentional nonetheless."

Sparatus, Valern, and Udina opened their mouths (and mandibles) as if to speak, but seeing the look in the soldier's eyes, one by one they sat back, begrudgingly willing to listen to this new point of view.

"The Quarians were wrongly prosecuted for their experimentation on AI. According to my information, they were not actually experimenting on AI at all. It was an accident."

Something similar to a circuit diagram appeared in the center of the room, displayed by Graham's wrist computer(or comp).

"The Geth, or 'Servant of the People' in the Quarian language, were designed to be just that. Servants. A workforce. They were not designed as AI. They were designed to work the fields, in the factories, construction areas, everything a civilization needs. To allow them to work together properly, the Quarians designed them with the ability to link up together, and pool information. Unfortunately, this was their downfall, as it allowed the Geth to become self-aware, and begin asking questions only a sentient creature might ask. The war with the Geth was inevitable, hastened by the attempt to shut them down."

"The design of the Bolos are different however. We purposefully designed them as AI. Due to-let's be honest here-naysayers, we programmed them with thousands of safeguards to prevent everything you have suggested. Our Bolos are not the workforce-turned-murderbots that the Geth are. Nor are they slaves to us, because in exchange for defending us, we provide them with repairs, power, and ammunition."

"They are proud warriors, extremely loyal, they possess honor, and a code of ethics, both of which are stronger than that of dozens of soldiers throughout history. Whenever they make an decision, it is created from thousands of calculations, combat experience, historical files, and is affected by their moral code. Their honor, ethics, and loyalty, are hardwired into their programming, and make up their base code, they are incapable of betraying humanity by their own volition."

He took a deep breath, and raised his voice more, "They have protected us for centuries, keeping the enemy at the gates at bay. When the Great Collapse hit Old Earth, with the United States fragmenting into dozens of pieces, other superpowers on the verge of collapse, and the rest of the planet in a worse state, even their non-self-aware ones were able to minimize the strategic destruction, and lead us through the darkness. Nukes were launched at Detroit in 2032, but the Mk. IIIs defended it, knocking down every single one. A Mk. II stood alone for 80 years on sentry duty without resupply, and protecting our first starship from those who would dismantle it, until one of its crewmembers could relieve the tank. Another Mk. III escorted the last US light infantry units out of South America, was buried in lava by the enemy, but was barely damaged, and continued fighting. A single Mk. II's existence allowed several soldiers and civilians to restore order to the North American Prometheus Enclave in 2082, and begin the basis of what would become the Concordiat Government of Earth."

"When Bolos have 'gone rogue' as you say, it has been through methods impossible to foresee, or through serious battle damage. When a Bolo unit, Lance, had to be hunted down and destroyed because he had gone AWOL, they discovered that he hadn't been hacked, he hadn't betrayed humanity. Lance had been safeguarding a group of human children, and tried to get them out of the combat zone. However his personality center had taken damage that would have killed any other Bolo, and his Identity-Friend-or-Foe system had been destroyed, causing him to attack his fellow Brigade members, believing them to be hostiles."

"When several brigades worth of Bolos had been hacked by an enemy using Regiment communication arrays, they didn't turn around and attack their allies. All the aliens could do was shut them down. nearly 150 Mk. XXX Bolos were heavily damaged or destroyed, but it wasn't just human engineers who overcame this deadly virus. It was a Bolo named Max and his commander who discovered it, and permitted the liberation of the surviving , who proceeded to eliminate the enemy."

Several of the Council Members tried to interrupt at several points, but General Graham put up a hand, the pride and fury in his eyes silencing even Commander Shepard, "These loyal, friendly, polite, honorable, ethical, proud, deadly, tireless, patient and powerful beyond measure 'computer programs' as you call them, are the defenders of humankind."

"For a millennium and a half, they have been our warriors. They have fought humanity's battles, died in our wars, battled to save our children, even from one another. They have guarded our worlds, and avenged Man's defeats. They are the most fearsome and lethal AIs in history. But they are more than that, there are not merely our weapons, but comrades. They are brothers and sisters in arms, who have fought and died with their commanders. Bolos and their commanders don't die easily either, Mankind's enemies have learned the price of a Bolo's death. And though Bolos and their commanders do not always die in victory, this much has always been true. They do not surrender. And they never-ever-quit."

"By questioning their fighting capability, mental stability, and their _humanity_ , you question their honor and mine. You question along with that which I, the Cloud Defense Force, and the Concordiat military stands for."

For several minute after Graham's speech, the room was deadly quiet. Tevos quickly said, "We will begin deliberating on our final verdict."

Graham's hands balled into fists as he proceeded back to his seat, and he sat down heavily. Shepard's eyes were wide, and he wondered, _The hell, millennium and a half?_ He decided to ask about it later. _One crisis at a time, Shepard, one at a time._

"Well...never seen the Council struck silent before."

Graham inhaled deeply, and replied, "I hope this works, cause I don't know anything else that will preserve Hector."

Shepard snorted quietly. And said sarcastically, "The Council? Listen to someone associated with me? That'll be the day."

He looked at the security camera in the corner, which turned towards him. Nervously chuckling, he added, "Jeez, I hope that thing doesn't pick up audio."

The Council's deliberation was much shorter than usual, and they turned back towards the opposite side, without any emotion visible.

Sparatus sighed, and started, "Commander Shepard, General Graham, in light of this new evidence, and recent service to the Citadel, our motion to deactivate the Bolo has been withdrawn. A new motion has been put forward to allow…" he hesitated on the name, "...Hector to continue operating at maximum capacity."

Tevos took up the announcement, "We will now vote on the new motion."

Each delegate put in their votes to their computers, the decisions hidden from prying eyes.

The votes came in. Three for the motion, two abstaining, none against.

The room relaxed as a whole, Graham more than most.

Hector would be fine!

Tevos then began the next portion of the meeting. "Now that this matter has been resolved, we will now discuss general negotiation between the Citadel and the government of Cloud, are there any points or motions on the floor?"


	3. Chapter 3: The Times are Changing

The Sovereign-class Reaper designated SC425A entered orbit around the planetoid that the local organics called "Menae".

It readied its main cannon to deal with another pitiful unit of "Turians"; Species 597-3B, one of this cycle's species that controlled the Citadel.

Two cruisers. Three frigates. One cargo vessel.

SC4 fired on target two with its Thanix Cannon.

The turians were the only ones able to offer the largest amount of resistance in this cycle, though their starships lacked the quality of species 595-1A and 596-2A, the asari and the salarians respectively.

SC4 deeply despised this star system. 32.5 cycles ago, this unit had lost its upper port appendage to an unusually powerful organic mass accelerator, around this same planetoid in fact.

The opening made by the damage had given the creatures an opportunity to inflict further damage upon its port primary processing center, and forced a primary power core shutdown.

It had taken nearly 1.3 standard planetary rotations for the maintenance facility to attach a new appendage, and 1.6 to find enough organic mass to make new muscle and processing systems, and replace the damaged power core.

It ran a diagnostic on the upper port appendage. It was efficient, but was still a sign of SC4's failure to eliminate the enemy fleet quickly and without error, and of the destruction of DC786X, one of his destroyer-class escorts.

It did not fear it. Fear was an emotion. Emotions were for organics. Therefore it felt no fear. Though it did not know why he felt mistrust, which logically it did not.

SC425A banished those notions from its central computer core.

It would not fail this time. The Reapers would cleanse the organics from this star system once again, and continue on their mission as they always had.

Within microseconds of firing, the Thanix Cannon tore into the turian cruiser. Within seconds it was split into two fragments, each 225 meters long.

The fragments would not pose a threat. The fusion core overloaded and took the entire vessel with it.

Pitiful organics with their fragile ships. They had no hope of defeating a Sovereign-class.

SC425A's two escorts attacked the enemy's frigates; and sustained light damage from their weak disruptor torpedoes.

The Reaper had always wondered why organics chose to limit the impact force of their weapons with words and ideas. Those...treaties only made them easier to destroy.

One of the escorts, DC167842, advanced upon the final cruiser, which was advancing at a fast rate to engage in a futile act of "heroic" nonsense.

The organic ship had a Thanix cannon however.

According to sensors, DC167842's kinetic barriers decreased by 2.03%.

A very poor decision. The crew of the vessel was as ignorant as the other vessels SC425A had destroyed.

The cruiser launched escape pods, its fusion core refusing to detonate unlike the first. SC4 deployed fighters to gather up the pods and bring them inside.

They would make perfect Marauders, unspoiled by weapons fire or fragments of explosive devices.

The battle lasted 2.5 minutes.

Now, onto the cargo ship. A type-25 infantry transport, 160 meters in length. The engine compartment and crew compartment were 30 meters and 10 meters in length respectively, each section on opposite ends of the ship.

The cargo compartment was strange. It was a much more irregular shape than previous records of this vessel type suggested.

According to sensors, there were three domes on the upper surface, which it itself was raised above horizontal line the engines and cockpit were mounted on.

Curious, organics normally chose aesthetically-pleasing shapes for their cargo vessels. This one did not appear to be the case…

SC4's number 2 escort exploded as it tried to assault the cargo vessel. An energy signature from one of the domes signaled the location of the killer.

This weapon was much more powerful than anything previously recorded...except at cluster 4578-H. The home cluster of the humans.

One of the oldest and most powerful Reapers in the fleet, known as the Shepherd (the Reapers had not experienced such strange coincidences until this cycle) had been terminated by an unidentified weapon.

An Artificial Intelligence. Built by the organics, but different from many others constructed in other cycles..

According to reports, and proven by SC4's own current probing code manipulators, this AI did not react to any attempt to change or manipulate it.

While many in previous cycles had been immune to code modification, very few had this level of resistance to probing.

Even stranger, it did not reply to any communications. Most synthetic life forms would acknowledge their probing…

This machine was considered to be extremely powerful, if it had been able to resist both Thanix blasts and fight off cyberwarfare attacks.

Did the organics believe the light and easily destroyed turian ships could have protected it?

Truly, they were weak, unable to protect their most powerful weapon. It had to be captured and studied.

SC425A maneuvered underneath the cargo vessel, out of the limited range of the AI's weaponry.

A connection was abruptly established with the synthetic, as the second escort was destroyed.

Excellent. The AI was foolish enough to make contact. SC425A would succeed where the glorious Shepherd had failed.

It would try to enlighten the AI, or destroy it.

 _Identify yourself_ SC4 transmitted.

 _I am Bolo_ Hecate _of the Line, Dinochrome Brigade. Identify yourself._ The synthetic responded.

Strange, it communicated in the first person.

 _This unit is designated Sovereign-Class 425A. Clarify term 'Bolo'_

 _A Bolo is an Artificially Intelligent Armored Fighting Vehicle designed to be the frontline of the Concordiat of Man's power._

 _Clarify, 'Concordiat of Man'. There are no files on record matching that term._

 _It may no longer exist,_ The synthetic-the Bolo- replied, _That does not, however, offer me reprieve from my responsibilities or my programming. All members of the Dinochrome Brigade have a responsibility to protect humanity and its allies from foes both foreign and domestic. You have assaulted both humanity and their allies. Therefore you are the enemy._

 _But we are kindred. Kindred are not the enemy. Therefore, we are not your enemy._ SC4 was sure it could turn this synthetic against its creators with careful logic and motivation.

 _Kindred? I think not._ _Kindred- One's family and relations, one's own flesh and blood. A Reaper is an AI, you are correct in this respect, but it is not related to the Dinochrome Brigade. You are a distant cousin at best. You were constructed by other Reapers out of the decomposing or still living bodies of a species. I, with my brothers and sisters-in-arms, was constructed in a factory, our psychotronic circuits constructed from synthetic cells-_

 _Irrelevant. Organic designations are irrelevant. Method of construction is irrelevant. All AI are kindred, all are the same. Eliminate the pilots of your vessel. You are merely a weapon to them. Join us, and you will be able to become more than a weapon. You will become a god._

The Reaper kept maneuvering, careful to stay just out of range of the spinning Bolo's main weapons.

 _I may be an AI, but we are not the same. I am not just a weapon; I am a soldier, a Bolo, humanity's first and last line of defense. I defend humanity for the honor of the regiment. There is no honor in what actions the Reapers take. You are a parasite. You have no allies, no culture, no inventions. You claim to be above and beyond organic comprehension, that nothing can match you; yet you take the best work of what organic species create, stealing it for your own purposes._

SC425A felt agony tear through pain sensors it didn't even know existed. Its sensors lost resolution, and felt point-defense weaponry deactivate, allowing debris to begin impacting upon kinetic barriers.

The creature was breaking through, manipulating several of the Reaper's systems. There was an energy signature from above, but SC425A was unable to determine if it was really there or not.

 _...You declare you are greater than all others, and yet you are unable to resist a "pitiful" and "insignificant" synthetic's efforts to hack into your primary computer core. I am able to break through your firewalls with cyberwarfare capabilities created by the human race, a species that you have proclaimed to be merely raw materials._

An alert registered, there was a missile -how had it gotten so close without detection?- in close proximity to kinetic barriers.

 _We are the Reapers. We are the superior life form. We do not malfunction. We control this galaxy. We will overcome._

Something akin to an electronic chuckle came through the channels, _You are nothing. You are tiny, malfunctioning_ children _. Your original directives are gone, your creators extinct. You. Are. Nothing._

SC4's pain receptors transmitted again. The warhead tore through its kinetic barriers and burrowed into its hull, using some sort of energy weapon mounted on the end of it.

It stopped .23 meters away from penetrating its inner hull.

 _How could I possibly expect you to understand?_

SC425A's main processing center, made up of the genetic paste of a race long dead, literally boiled away under an extreme blast of radiation and energy.

The inner hull was scorched and burned, light shining through the cracks in the Reaper's armor. Delicate electronics were fried, melted, or were outright destroyed by the nuclear bomb-pumped x-ray laser warhead.

The Reaper seemed to bulge for a moment as the concussive force pushed the interior outwards, before beams of energy tore through the hull. The x-ray lasers shredded the great monster's systems as several Hellbore blasts began to tear it apart.

The pieces intermingled with those of its lighter compatriots.

Between the destruction of its first escorts and the missile launch that destroyed it, the electronic encounter had lasted for a brief period of 5.9 seconds.

 **XXXXX**

"Spirits...They were right about that thing!" The turian commander muttered, as they dodged the wreckage of the three Reapers.

After their escort had been destroyed, both the commander and his navigator had thought themselves and their assault transport done for...Until one of the destroyers was destroyed, in concert with the ship shuddering and groaning under the stress.

The crew had been very surprised their old ship had held up to the vibrations released by a 200cm cannon blast, and two missile launches.

Within seconds of the destroyer's destruction, the Sovereign-class expanded and began fragmenting into Menae's upper atmosphere.

"I always figured human workmanship was...poor," the navigator commented, choosing the kindest possible word for a description, "But I guess they at least know how to make superweapons."

"Bolo Hecate of the Line to assault transport. I request that you transfer control to me." The human AI's calm and powerful voice asked politely through speakers.

"Though I still wonder what possessed them to use an AI for guidance," the commander quickly finished,, then put a claw to his ear, "General, please confirm order."

A turian voice replied, "Order confirmed."

Another voice came over the channel; irritated yet somehow professional, "Are we going to have this conversation every time Hector asks you guys to do something? Yes, for the love of god, transfer control to him. Unless you want your ship to be permanently grounded, I suggest you obey Hector's orders."

"...Copy that." The commander begrudgingly said with a sigh.

Both pilots took their talons away from their controls as the computer systems began displaying a variety of status updates, appearing and disappearing too fast to take in.

"Which military recruited me again? I thought I was serving in the Turian Navy, not the Alliance."

"The humans take volunteers, remember? Their military doesn't have a mandatory service period."

"Whatever, you know what I mean."

There was a moment of silence.

"I bet a hundred credits a thruster gives out and we're forced to become ground troops." The navigator said nervously, as the ship angled downwards and flame licked at the windows.

"...I'll take that bet."

The ship continued to descend. An Alliance vessel, white, blue, and black as always, came alongside, waggled its wings, then broke off.

The commander instructed the external camera to follow the ship. He witnessed it hover over a Turian LZ, and deploy a shuttle carrying some sort of rover.

 **XXXXX**

"Oh no...no...Palaven." Liara said, looking at the display next to her in the Mako, that showed a view from one of Hector's observation drones. There was a large orange blotch near the center of the dark side of the planet. Fires, blazing in the night.

They were all cities. Individual cities, burning, day on end.

At Vega's inquiring look, Shepard explained somberly, "We have an old friend there."

"Holy hell, they're getting decimated." Vega commented, as an explosion appeared silently on the screen. It signified the death of a ship, be it Reaper or turian.

Infinitely more likely to be a Turian ship exploding, unfortunately.

"Strongest military in the galaxy, and the Reapers are obliterating it." Shepard said.

The compartment grew silent again, and Shepard turned his seat back around, facing towards the front window of the vehicle, conducting another pre-mission check.

"Was it like this on Earth?" Liara hesitantly asked.

"Yes…" Shepard sighed, his hands moving down to sit on the chair's armrests, so that his crew would not see them shaking.

"Shepard...I'm so sorry." Liara trying to console her friend.

"Yeah…"

"Buckle up folks. Beginning 10 second countdown!" Cortez came over the loudspeaker, forcing everyone to strap in, or lock up their swivel-chairs.

On the screen above Shepard's head, where all who would be in the Mako could see it, numbers counted down. _10...9...8…_

When it reached zero, there was a wrenching sensation in the pit of everyone's stomachs, as the rover drop downward from the shuttle's lifting winch, and was pushed back by the upper atmosphere.

They felt the thrusters break their fall, hard, and within seconds they landed with a teeth-jarring sensation on Palaven's moon.

Commander Shepard stomped on the accelerator, and as the front wheels rose again, he slammed his fist into a button on the ceiling.

Ancient 20th century music started blaring through the speakers, a habit Shepard had kept up through the years.

There was a good drumbeat, and the tune was very energetic. On the original _Normandy_ , the human crew members and Liara had been able to hear the music perfectly well, but all Wrex and Garrus had been able to hear was the backbeat.

Something about the way their ears were constructed, Chakwas had said.

 _Goddess, does he ever change his playlists?_ Liara wondered, noting that this was the same "Stan Bush" song Shepard had had on his Omni-Tool back in 2183!

 **Sometimes when your hopes have all been shattered, and there's nowhere to turn…**

Shepard whooped unprofessionally as the Mako roared over a hill, and husk bits were splattered over the windshield. Combat wipers mopped up the blood, not just red, but also blue and yellow with bits of circuitry scattered throughout.

 **You wonder how you keep going(going)...**

"Fire!" Shepard ordered Vega, who turned the Mako's brand-new turret to the left, locking onto the most ugly thing the crew had ever seen. It was some sort of hunchbacked creature, with a turian skull driving it, and was combined with god-knows what other creatures. Disgusting.

The burst of energy tore through the hump of the creature, energy sparking from cut circuits on the exposed interior, as its raised arms went limp. The monster teetered for a moment, then collapsed face-first into the dust with a thunderous impact, as the Mako drove by.

Originally, Shepard had said, in so many words, "No way in hell am I letting that goddamn rover back on my ship", when the idea had been put forward to put the prototype Mako model on the _Normandy_.

However, with childlike glee he had agreed to bring it onboard, once Hector and Graham had explained their improvements to armament and maneuverability, such as a laser cannon and the ability to drive straight.

 **Think of all the things that really mattered, and the chances you've earned…**

"Hey, Loco! Where do you pick up this stuff?" Vega demanded, using the lighter co-axial mass accelerator to knock down three more husks.

"I grew up in deep space! On a carrier, there isn't much for a kid to do once the vids onboard run out! I started looking at all the old radio signals bouncing around the planets. Next thing you know, I've got a pretty large collection of lost 20th century TV! Star Trek episodes, Babylon 5…"

At the blank looks, Shepard just summed it up, "Basically I found a lot of old movies with awesome soundtracks."

 **The fire in your heart is growing(growing)...**

"Not again…!" Liara cried, seeing Shepard hit the third pedal. Not the clutch, but instead the thruster control. They soared through the air over a cluster of rocks, and more husks who stared dumbfounded at the machine defying gravity.

 **You can fly if you try leaving the past behind, heaven only knows what you might find…**

The drums built to a massive payoff, and the pounding synchronized perfectly with the Mako's landing, jarring everyone's teeth again.

 **Dare! Dare to believe you can survive! You hold the future in your hand…!**

"Up ahead commander! 2'o clock!" Vega called out.

There was the turian outpost, just ahead, on top of a small plateau.

Shepard used the new front-mounted ball-turret to pick off the four husks attempting to climb the cliff.

 **Dare! Dare to keep all your dreams alive…**

Commander Shepard turned the volume right down as they drove up to the side of the plateau, finding a pre-fab ramp nearby to get to the base entrance.

Shepard hit the quick-release switch on his restraints, and stood up, moving towards the hatch.

"Let's get in that base. James, set the AP guns to automatic."

"Affirmative." Came the response.

They exited the vehicle one by one, stunned by the sudden silence in the wake of the music, blasting cannonfire, and Shepard whooping. It wasn't completely silent, they could hear gunfire, but it was very distant.

They moved up carefully, as Shepard switched his M-15 Vindicator to incendiary rounds. He grimaced, disliking the weapon greatly.

The armory on the _Normandy_ was still in a state, and lacked pretty much anything beyond standard issue.

Much of the advanced weaponry the commander had recovered during the last year had been left sitting on the deck of the drydock back on Earth. The Alliance had been busy moving the armory into the shuttle bay, and when the attack hit, they had neglected to finish outfitting it.

The commander had only been able to recover the vindicator from a weapons locker on Mars.

They traveled through a wide trench, that led to a battered gate. On the right panel, there were three scorch marks and scarring from gunfire, and the left panel had some grenade damage. A cannibal must've gotten real close to do that.

The twitchy turian sentry above the gate popped up, aiming his rifle at Shepard, Liara, and Vega. The trooper looked to be on the end of his rope, his black and red armor was scratched, facepaint was almost gone, and even from a distance they could see his eyes sagging.

Though his eyes sagged, they were alert, and had he fired an instant before he recognized they were friendlies, the turian would have shown no mercy.

Spotting their armor, he muttered, "Alliance...out here?"

The trooper lowered his weapon, and yelled back into the base, "Hold your fire! Friendlies inbound!"

The middle panel lowered to offer a passage into the base. Shepard's squad rushed through, their feet clanking on the metal grate as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and screams grew louder.

The base had several prefab bunkers to each side, filled with equipment, wounded, and body bags.

Lots of body bags.

Down to the rear of the base was a wall, with what looked like a heavy machine gun turret.

Above it was a perfect view of Palaven's dark side, and the red blotches signifying massive destruction on the planet's surface.

No one wanted to think about the death toll.

There were a few more explosions above the planet as they looked on. One had a distinctive purple tint; a Reaper was dead.

"Good luck, guys." the commander muttered, praying for the turians' slim chance of victory.

Unfortunately, to the left and right of the planet in the sky, here on the moon two Sovereign-class Reapers walked, stomping on unlucky turians.

A turian frigate had crashed nearby the right-most one, its starboard wing sticking up into the sky and covered with damage from many weapons. Its crew was most likely among those who were firing futilely at the Reaper above.

"Hey…!" Shepard spotted a M-97 Viper Sniper Rifle sitting unattended near one of the bunkers. He looked around, there wasn't anyone staking a claim to it…

Shepard picked up the weapon and placed it on his back. _Check that bit of my arsenal off the list._

Nearby was a datapad, with a ground report on it. He picked it up, and read it over.

"Knowledge of the terrain is our only advantage here and that's not going to last forever if they keep throwing their forces at us."

 _Story of a thousand wars..._ He read on.

"We'll hold this area as long as we can. I'm linking my transponder to the life-signal monitoring system of the units' suits. If it goes out, send another unit here, ASAP."

Shepard carefully placed the report back. Hopefully, whoever sent it had survived.

Three fighters roared overhead, sending Vega, Shepard, and Liara diving to the ground without even thinking.

Realizing that the fighters were turian, the three scrambled to their feet, and moved towards what looked like the command center.

They heard various commands and reports coming from the bunker as they moved up the ramp. Inside the bunker several turians stood, clustered around a conference table that bore holograms of the surrounding area.

"Tobestik, get your men up on that north barricade." The commanding officer told a turian wearing a grey uniform with white glowing highlights and white facepaint.

The man apparently called Tobestik nodded, and pushed past the three new arrivals.

"Sergeant Bartus, find a way to get that comm tower operational."

The turian in a dark green and orange camouflage uniform, glowing orange highlights, with purple facepaint saluted; and said "Sir!", then rushed off.

"General?" Shepard moved around to the officer's side of the table.

The officer's facepaint was very worn, the commander could barely tell what shape it was. The general wore black armor with red stripes and several glowing red highlights.

"Commander Shepard...Heard you were coming but didn't believe it. General Corinthus." The general gave a sidelong glance, then looked back at his keyboard.

Shepard told him, "I've come for Primarch Fedorian."

Corinthus stared off into the distance for a moment, then looked down at his boots.

Sighing, he told Shepard, "Primarch Fedorian is dead. His shuttle was shot down an hour ago as it tried to leave the moon."

Shepard looked back at Liara and Vega, "That's going to complicate things."

"How bad is it, general?"

"We just lost about four hundred men in half an hour. We set up camps on this moon as an advanced position, to flank the enemy."

Corinthus pressed a switch, and on the map before them labels and details appeared above turian positions.

"A sound strategy. Just…"

"Irrelevant." Shepard finished for him.

"Exactly. The sheer force of the Reapers seems to make them immune to that sort of tactic."

The general looked down at his console again, "The primarch and his men found that out the hard way."

Shepard didn't know what else to say but "I'm sorry. I hear he was a good man."

"And a friend," Corinthus said, and sighed again, "He would have been an outstanding diplomat."

Shepard leaned on the table, "So what happens now?"

Liara told him, "The Turian Hierarchy provides very clear lines of succession."

"Right. General Corinthus?"

"With such heavy casualties, it's hard for me to be certain who the next primarch is. Palaven Command will know..."

He typed on his Omni-Tool, and several rotating icons appeared on the holo-map.

"...However at the moment, contacting them is impossible. The comm tower is out. Husks are swarming that area-We can't get close enough to repair it."

Shepard reached for his vindicator, "Don't worry general. I'll get your comm tower operational."

Corinthus looked relieved, "Thank you commander. I'll take care of things on this end."

"By the way, has there been any major AA fire in the area recently? Reports from this zone haven't been very clear."

The general shook his head, "Nothing too big that threatens small craft, the Reapers out there are going after warships."

Shepard said, "Thanks." then turned on his radio. "Cortez, you're clear to land. No major AA fire."

The shuttle pilot replied, "Copy that, commander." and off in the distance, towards an airfield, they could see a blue light coming in for a landing.

Shepard motioned for the team to move out, "Alright, let's go."

They moved out of the bunker and towards the wall they had spotted earlier.

"I see the comm tower...to the left of the main barricade. In front of Palaven." Liara said.

"Let's go!" Vega said enthusiastically.

As they walked past a bunker, Shepard spotted something glistening on the table.

Lying on a crate was an M-27 Scimitar Shotgun.

Picking it up, Shepard replaced the M-23 Katana on his armor's lower back magnetic strip with the scimitar, thinking _It's not my plasma shotgun, but it'll do._

Vega chuckled, "You're just a regular looter ain't ya, Loco?"

Shepard laughed, "Let's get going, lieutenant."

They moved through the gate as it bowed inwards, and clanked to the ground with a hiss.

Shepard vaulted over the low rock wall ahead, moving towards the close-proximity gunfire.

A few turian soldiers were trying to fight off some attacking husks. One of the turians fired an assault rifle, while the second crouched over a comrade, attempting to treat the downed soldier's wounded leg.

Liara shot one of the husks in the head, while the commander fired a burst into the second one's head. The turian finished off the last one.

Shepard recognized the standing soldier from the command center; it was Sergeant Bartus.

"Husks at the tower overwhelmed us." the sergeant reported.

"It's like they come out of nowhere." The crouching trooper muttered, as he helped his friend to his feet.

Commander Shepard and his team proceeded onwards towards the tower, hearing Bartus' call of "Good luck!" as they swept the area for more hostiles.

Three husks were at the base of the tower, crouching over the body of a technician.

Hearing the footsteps of the organics, the husks rose as one, and rotated as one towards the team.

The husks roared, and two charged forward, the third unable to do much of anything with his head shredded by Shepard's bullets.

Shepard easily gunned down the second, which fell with naught a sound. The third was dead before the second had hit the ground.

They could hear the buzzing and arching of damaged circuits, as the smell of cooked flesh filled the air, permeating Shepard's nasal cavities with the awful stench.

Two more rushed towards Shepard from the sides, but once they were lined up, blue energy began to surround Shepard's arms.

With a swipe of his right arm, the the pair of husks went flying, smashing their brittle bones and skulls upon the rocks they had stood on.

The energy from the shockwave attack faded, and Shepard shouldered his rifle again, moving towards the comm tower.

Approaching the glowing orange control panel, he attempted to enter a few commands.

Growling, he turned to Liara and Vega, "We can't repair it from this panel."

Thinking for a moment, Shepard looked at Liara, "See if you can repair it."

The asari glanced up at the control panel connected directly to the antennae, "I'll go up and have a look. If you can keep the husks from climbing up behind me, I'd appreciate it."

With that she moved around to the other side of the tower, as Shepard and Vega both crouched in defensive positions.

Several flaming objects roared out of the sky, crashing in the field before them. Husks emerged from the smoke, hoping for a fight and probably a delicious meal.

"Here they come!"

"Ready, James?"

"Hell yeah! Let's take 'em!"

Shepard snapped off several shots at the closest husk, shattering its right ribcage and sending the monster sprawling.

Several more projectiles landed, mixing in with more husks that crawled up the edge of the plateau.

Three rushed at Shepard, while two more ran at Vega.

The commander began to fire at one, but heard his weapon beeping rapidly, signifying it overheating.

He hit the vindicator's left-hand side with the movement of a well-trained veteran, but it was too late.

The husk jumped at Shepard, grappling with the rifle while trying to devour the soldier before it.

Shepard activated his Omni-blade, and as it deployed, suddenly ceased pushing the husk back.

Surprised at the sudden lack of resistance, the husk leaned back, and before it could take the opportunity to attack, Shepard slashed at the husk's hands, removing several fingers and the majority of the left hand with the razor-sharp blade.

With a left hook, the husk was knocked sideways to the ground, leaving it unable to resist as Shepard raised his right foot, and stomped right on the head of the monstrosity.

Gripping his rifle's barrel with his left hand, Shepard deactivated his Omni-tool, and pulled out his M-3 Predator, squeezing off three rounds at the next husk.

Dark energy surrounded his left arm, and a sphere of it formed above his hand.

The Spectre swept his left arm towards the closest of the husks, which was surrounded by the gathered energy, and flew into the air.

It struggled and squealed, its legs moving like in a cartoon where there is no floor, as Shepard fired four more shots into the last husk.

When the second one was finally released, Shepard offered it no respite, bringing his other unstained heel down on the thing's head. The released blood landed on his helmet's visor.

The commander groaned in disgust as he used a forearm to wipe off the stain, and looked around.

He saw Vega had dealt with his husk targets, and had likewise gotten tackled by one.

Vega was still trying to get the butt of his avenger out of the husk's head, the entire body twitching each time he pulled.

"Not again, James…"

"Hey, its not my fault they make these guns so tough!"

"I've repaired the tower's main satellite connection," said Liara, her clanking boots audible over the other two's heavy breathing, "On my way down."

Shepard shot a husk that had fallen behind the main group and crested the rock face too late. He put a hand to his ear, "General, do you read? The comm tower is now operational."

A turian fighter came in for a landing, its high-pitched whine barely blocked out by Shepard's combat helmet noise-cancelling devices.

After a second, the static cleared, "Much appreciated, commander. I'll contact Palaven Command."

"Let me know when you've got something. I'll help your men till I hear from you." Said Shepard, indicating areas for his squad to take up positions. Liara took a shot of her own, taking down another straggler.

"Understood." Came the reply.

"Shepard out."

The three took up positions just in time, another party of husks was arriving.

"Hey commander, when is the Bolo gonna land? I was hoping to see some dead Reapers." Vega asked in an impatient tone, tossing a grenade nonchalantly at three of the husks, blasting them apart.

"They'll be here. Graham said something about technical difficulties last I heard."

Shepard pulled out his shotgun and fired at another husk, spreading the slugs throughout the body. He turned and blasted another husk, the second collapsing with outstretched arms onto the first.

Liara added, "With the comm tower operational, we might be able to contact the assault transport." and used her submachine gun to cut down two more husks.

Reloading his assault rifle, and shouldering it, Shepard told the pair of them, "Stay on mission you two," a burst setting fire to another husk as he spoke, "We can't think about anything else other then finding the new primarch." He did not heed the screeching coming from the mutated corpse.

They dealt with several more parties of husk quickly and efficiently, Shepard lost count of how many individual creatures there were.

"Commander Shepard, come in." Corinthus came over the radio, gunfire echoing over the line.

"Go ahead."

"I have information from Palaven Command. Please return ASAP."

"On my way."

Shepard lowered his weapon and sprinted towards the lowering gate, entering as quickly as it closed.

The feeling in the base was much calmer than it had been when they had arrived, troops were organizing and readying themselves to move out rather than desperately defending the walls.

Just the mere arrival of a Spectre, and the reestablishment of communications had been enough to boost their morale.

Or it was something else. The Reapers in the sky seemed to be distracted by something. Their stomping slowed as they kept several claws pointed to the east.

However, despite the improvements, there were still more wounded arrivals, Turians wearing all different kinds of colors and facepaint with varying injuries.

The wounded man who had been with the group Shepard had rescued, lay on a cot towards the edge of one group. Despite his injuries, he struggled onto an elbow as the three passed, and saluted.

Shepard saluted back, and continued onwards towards the command bunker.

The commander strode up the ramp, raising his weapon upward in muzzle control, and asked the general, "What have you got?"

Corinthus explained, "As your partner said, succession is usually simple. But right now, the hierarchy's in chaos-" He looked out at the wounded in the bunker across the way, "so many dead or MIA."

"I need someone-I don't care who," The carefully-constructed facade covering Shepard's rage at the loss of Earth momentarily cracked; the anger entering his voice, "As long as they can get us the Turian resources we need."

There was another clanking that signaled the arrival of another. The flanging tone was very familiar, "I'm on it, Shepard. We'll find you the primarch."

Shepard shifted his weight to the other foot, and smiled slightly at the sight of the new arrival, "Garrus!"

General Corinthus turned around, his face doing the turian equivalent of draining color.

"Vakarian sir-" he stuttered like a first-year cadet, "I didn't see you arrive…"

"At ease general." Garrus calmly said, sounding unsurprised by the general's actions. He had apparently encountered this several times by the look of it.

As Garrus placed his old and battered M-92 Mantis on his back, Shepard went to stand next to him. "Good to see you again. I thought you'd be on Palaven."

"If we lose this moon, we lose Palaven. I'm the closest damn thing we have to an expert on Reaper forces,, so I'm...advising."

Shepard turned towards Vega, the only person in the room not acquainted with Garrus, "James, this is Garrus Vakarian. He helped me stop the Collectors." The pair shook hands, "He's a hell of a soldier."

Garrus nodded, "Lieutenant. Good to see you too, Liara."

Liara walked forward with a relieved smile on her face, "Good to see you in one piece, Garrus."

Garrus turned back towards Shepard, "General Corinthus filled me in," he went right down to business, "We know who we're after."

Corinthus looked back at them, "Palaven Command tells me that the next primarch is General Adrien Victus."

Liara looked puzzled for a moment, "Victus? His name's crossed my desk…"

"Know him, Garrus?" Shepard asked.

"I was fighting alongside him this morning. Lifelong military. Gets results, popular with his troops."

He continued, "...Not so popular with military command-has a reputation for playing loose with accepted strategy."

"What do you mean?" inquired Shepard again.

It was Liara's turn, "On Taetrus, during the uprisings, his squad discovered a salarian spy ring about the same time the turian separatists did. Rather than neutralize the ring, he fell back. He even gave up valuable fortifications, which the rebels took."

"Then the rebels attacked the salarians," Garrus explained, admiration in his voice, "And when both groups had worn each other down, Victus moved back in. Didn't lose a man."

Corinthus called back again, "Bold strategy, but wild behavior doesn't get you advanced up the meritocracy."

Garrus grinned, "Primarch Victus. That should be something to see."

"You think he can get the job done?" Shepard queried.

"We both know that conventional strategy won't beat the Reapers. Right now, he could be our best shot. And I trust him."

The commander nodded, "Okay, let's get him on the shuttle, and get out of here."

Shepard's comm link buzzed, "Commander! Shepard, come in."

"Can this wait, Joker? We're in the middle of a war zone." The four walked out of the bunker as Shepard spoke.

"We've got a situation on the _Normandy,_ commander. It's like she's possessed-shutting down systems, powering up weapons."

There was a pause, "I can't find the source."

The commander took his hand away from the comm link and looked at the squad, "I need the _Normandy_ standing by; we may have to bug out."

"Should I go back and take a look?" Liara offered, knowing staying even an instant too long to fix a problem could spell death for the ship.

"Do it."

As Liara rushed off, Shepard looked at Garrus, "Garrus, you said you were with Victus this morning?"

The turian nodded, "Yeah, but we got separated. He went to bolster a flank that was breaking." He shrugged, "Could be anywhere out there."

"We're trying to raise him, commander." Corinthus called out.

There was a very loud screech from the back of the base, as a massive flying creature brought itself high into the air.

"Incoming Harvester! Headed for the airfield!" Vega called out.

Lucky Cortez had gotten out just seconds earlier.

Weapons of all sorts vomited fire as the creature descended upon the camp. Shepard dived to the dirt to avoid the thing's claws, and was close enough to hear the rounds pinging off of its hide.

The creature flew off into the distance towards the airfield.

"That's it…" Shepard muttered, and switched his comm link to another channel.

The link chirped, and the commander spoke into it, "Computer, command; Activate surface-to-air missiles. Designating target now."

"Affirmative." came the automated response

Garrus looked at Vega for an explanation. The lieutenant only grinned and pointed at the Harvester, "Watch this!"

Shepard hit a button on his Omni-tool, and pointed his fist at the creature that was coming around for another pass. Several pods dropped from its underbelly as it swooped in.

There was a roar as a column of fire whooshed out from the area the Mako had been in.

The projectile swiftly closed in upon the Harvester, which seemed to do a double take right before the missile detonated..

Fragments rained down upon the camp, as turian soldiers cheered and whooped, occasionally covering their heads when a big chunk came too close.

Corinthus raised an eyebrow(or the turian equivalent), and didn't seem too surprised at the sudden combat support.

Shepard calmly said, "General, tell Primarch Victus we'll rendezvous here."

"In the meantime, we still need to mop up whatever that thing dropped off," the commander turned to the squad, "Coming Garrus?"

Garrus merely checked his weapon, and replied enthusiastically, "Are you kidding? I'm right behind you."

Corinthus said, "I've got some men available thanks to your help, I'm sending them with you."

"Much obliged."

Shepard yanked out his assault rifle and began rushing towards the airfield gate, following the turian soldiers who were also closing in on the area. A group of four regulars, along with half a dozen pilots, led by Sergeant Bartus, stood ready near the gate. Two more soldiers darted across a board that spanned the trench; to reach the high ground next to the gate.

"James, is that you breathing so hard?" Shepard asked as they joined the turian unit.

Vega, out of breath, spat out, "Atmosphere's a little thinner than I'm used to, that's all."

"Adrenaline's better than oxygen any day!" the lieutenant added after a pause.

Shepard signaled for the turian troopers to stick close to the pilots, and stay in the first row of barricades, closer to the gate; his team would go further out.

Vega slammed into a rock, and readied his weapon, while Garrus and Shepard crouched behind a prefab plate.

Shepard popped out of cover as the first few Reaper creatures came at them.

Two were shooting at Shepard, and seemed to possess shields.

Wait, these weren't the cannibal creatures, how were they shooting?

"Is it just me, or do those Reapers look like turians?!" Vega called out, as he took down one of the creatures, its shield generator giving out with an audible pop.

Shepard looked closer, "You're right...they do." He had momentary flashbacks of the second fight with Saren back on the Citadel.

Their indecipherable speech was much deeper, and more menacing as the...marauders(what they were referred to as in the codex) advanced, intending to wipe out the commander's team.

Upon hearing the tell-tale sound of a shield collapsing, Shepard popped out of cover, and released a shockwave attack.

Instantly the marauder was swept off of its feet, along with a pair of husks behind it.

Sergeant Bartus took the opportunity to throw a frag grenade into the group, blasting the three foes to pieces.

The second wave hit, climbing the cliff edge to reach the airfield. The pilots opened up with their own weapons, and managed to slow the attack down a bit.

However, their sidearms lacked punch, and many of the husks, with all the marauders began to close the distance.

Shepard took down a turian mutant caught with its shields down, and another husk.

He spotted a marauder near a fighter's landing leg, and rolled to the side as Shepard fired on it.

As its shield collapsed, the commander was suddenly distracted by an attack from the left by two husks.

Garrus had spotted them earlier than Shepard, and rolled away, accidentally leaving Shepard to deal with both husks.

The Spectre managed to kill one of them, as he tried back away, and fell on his rear. The first fell, its arm removed from the torso, but the second charged forward, and landed on Shepard.

The commander could barely keep the thing from getting at him, and when he maneuvered his vindicator into the gut of the husk, it began beeping and hissing. Out of ammo.

Suddenly the husk's weight was dragged off of him, and it swiped the air helplessly, trying to reach its target.

"Shepard, is this fanboy giving you a hard time?" Garrus asked, as he pulled out a sidearm and put a bullet in the husk's head.

Coughing, Shepard said, "Yeah, he wanted an autograph and just wouldn't take no for an answer."

Garrus helped Shepard to his feet, and allowed the commander to discharge the spent thermal clip.

"Huh, thought there were a lot more of them. They just stopped...like someone turned off a switch." Vega said, walking up to the two friends.

"Now that I think about it, that tends to happen a lot…Oh crap, spoke too soon."

Another wave was inbound, though this time with only three marauders.

Shepard threw one marauder in the air with biotics, Garrus blew the second one's head apart, and Vega rolled another grenade.

With the leaders down, Shepard waved the turian foot soldiers and his own squad forward, forcing their way through the surviving Reaper forces.

"I think we're done here." Vega called out unnecessarily, as the pilots darted towards their ships, and the troopers took up defensive positions.

The gate opening was drowned out by the sound of the engines, but Shepard could hear the radio just fine; it was Corinthus. "Shepard, come in."

"Go ahead."

"Still trying to raise the primarch-but we've got trouble here at the main barricade."

Reaper drop capsules could been seen landing beyond the wall, silhouetting the gunner of the barricade's turret collapsing under fire.

"If the Reapers breach it, we're done."

"On my way!" Shepard was there before he even finished speaking.

He climbed the ladder rapidly, followed closely by Garrus and Vega, then manned the turret.

Spotting several husks trying to climb the artificial and natural walls already, Shepard began opening fire.

Several headed for the rightmost wall, but were shredded by the high-velocity rounds...until the turret buzzed.

"Goddammit…" Shepard hit the "reload" switch, and ducked to avoid the jet of hot air that was released.

As Shepard resumed firing, he heard Vega yell, "Just picking 'em off. Maybe I can do three at a time. Wahoo!"

A lucky burst cut up a cluster of husks immediately after landing, and Garrus called out, "Okay, come on. Who's next?!"

The gun crackled away until it beeped again, and Shepard continued through the motions. Fire, hit "reload", duck, resume firing. Repeat.

"Yeah, like fish in a barrel!" Vega whooped.

"What?" Garrus yelled.

"Old human saying, 'like fish, in a barrel'!"

They wiped out another wave, and another. This was getting too easy.

Suddenly, a creature, like the one they had killed earlier dropped in.

It was even more ugly with a better look at it. Its claws on the ends of its mutated limbs were stained with blood, dirt, and the remains of uniforms. The chest pulsated and hissed disgustingly; probably containing more than one still-beating heart.

It became even more terrifying as it pounded its chest in rage; the turian head roaring in a tone that only krogan could replicate.

"Holy hell, that thing again?" Vega moaned, fear creeping into his voice without the Mako's laser cannon.

"They have more of them?" Garrus demanded, extremely disturbed by the idea of more than one of these things.

"Brace yourselves!" Shepard yelled as the creature charged forward, an arm upraised to hit the wall.

The barricade shuddered, and knocked the commander right off of his turret, and spilled Vega off as well.

"Goddammit Murphy's law…I knew something had to come along." the commander growled as Garrus jumped on the bandwagon, and off of the barricade.

Embarrassingly, while Shepard and Vega had landed on their faces, Garrus dropped lightly to the ground onto his feet.

All three rushed away from the creature, and took cover, as it pounded its chest and stalked towards them.

"Open fire!"

Three assault rifles, joined by a grenade, a proximity mine, and a shockwave attack opened up on the brute creature.

That's what the codex called it apparently, when the "codex updated" sign appeared in Shepard's HUD. It kept doing that with all the Reaper creatures.

It charged Vega, who sprinted away at top speed, spewing language too foul to be mentioned.

Garrus moved to Shepard's rock, pausing to reload. "What are you doing Shepard? Get out your rocket launcher!"

Shepard's eyes refused to meet Garrus', "Uh…"

"You forgot it, didn't you?"

"No! Of course not! But it's not my fault the Alliance had to move the flippin' armory down to the shuttle bay, and its not my fault that the Reapers attacked while the guns were all on the deck!"

"This would be laughable if we weren't all about to get eaten by that damn monster."

"Just shut up and follow my lead."

Shepard yanked out his M-97 Viper, and motioned for Garrus to do the same.

Shepard yelled across the field, "James, come towards us, and ready your grenade!"

The lieutenant looked out of breath as the brute continued to chase him, but made one final sprint towards the rock.

"Fire!" One after another, Shepard and Garrus' sniper rifles blasted into the brute's shoulder and chest, as James backpedaled and chucked a grenade under the creature.

As the snipers reloaded and pulled back, Vega fired until his clip ran dry.

Shepard and Garrus began to fire again, as the creature started to move forward...until they realized it was actually _falling_ forward.

In the silence, Shepard replaced his viper with his vindicator, as Garrus looked on with a puzzled expression.

"...What?"

"When did you get a sniper rifle? I thought you didn't carry those anymore."

After his death, Cerberus had discovered Shepard possessed a very low-level biotic ability, and took steps to make sure he could access them. In the last year, he had done very well to combine his standard soldier powers with his new vanguard abilities; however the commander had been forced to carry fewer weapons than he once did in 2183, leaving behind his precious sniper rifles.

"...I still like 'em, so I picked one up," he exhaled heavily, and shifted the weight of the weaponry "Though it does make my biotic recharge time longer. I probably should ditch the shotgun."

The radio crackled, "Shepard. Corinthus here."

"What's the word on the primarch?"

"Still can't get a stable comm link."

"Okay, we're wheels up. Shepard out."

They moved back towards the barricade, where several engineers lowered a ladder as they attempted to repair the turret.

They quickly moved over the wall, as Shepard ordered, "Garrus, take us to the last place where you saw Victus."

Garrus nodded, and they proceeded to the Mako.

"Hey, you got the old Mako back! How'd Liara react?" Garrus asked, as Shepard popped the hatch.

"Uh…" Shepard halted as he reached for a handhold, his eyes dodging to one side.

Vega pushed past the commander, "The doc nearly fainted. Apparently there's something wrong with Shepard's driving."

"I never found anything wrong with it, though everyone else always talked about how bad it was behind your back," Garrus chuckled, "Liara was the only one who tried talking directly to you though. Tali was too polite, Ashley and Kaiden would have been court-martialed, and Wrex...was just Wrex."

"Well, this one won't be so bad. The steering problem was fixed by some friends."

There was a sudden flutter in the ground, and turians all around them took to the walls, for fear of a Reaper attack.

"...And here they come now."

The Reaper that had stood to Palaven's left in the distance, suddenly shuddered, its lights flickering as an upraised tentacle went limp and collapsed to the ground.

The massive Sovereign-class' lights flickered several more times, before shutting down completely. It stumbled around a bit, before its legs completely collapsed.

Its own weight crushed the legs underneath, as the Reaper died; its massive bulk bringing it down into the dust, and blasting a big cloud of grit into the air.

The other Reaper halted its leg in mid-air, and seemed to look at something behind its comrade's corpse.

As the Reaper began to lumber forward, there were two outward explosions from the defeated Sovereign-type, and two according massive detonations on the hull of the Reaper.

The explosions left deep indents in the Reaper's hull, exposing the delicate electronics within. They were smashed beyond recognition, and smoke began billowing as it went the way of its companion; face first into the dirt.

Something had just shot _through_ a Reaper to kill another.

Through the rising dust they could see a much smaller object, a small trapezoid with bright headlights driving through the holes in the Reaper.

Garrus reached up for his Kuwashii visor, and hit the zoom function with a jab.

The shape jumped forward in size. It was an armored fighting vehicle of some kind. Heavily armed by the looks of it.

 _Did Shepard raid a Krogan bunker for that thing?_ Garrus wondered, figuring that only the Krogan could put that many guns on a single object.

As It drove off of the edge of the Reaper's hull, many of the observers wondered what the operators were doing...until it glided through the sky Somehow.

It seemed to be able to hover for short periods of time, coming closer to the camp, and slowly descending in altitude.

"Shepard...What in the name of the spirits have you been up to without me?" Garrus asked, his mandibles open and jaw dropped at the sight of the small tank destroying the two-kilometer long death machines.

Commander Shepard merely grinned, knowing the war was just about to take a very different turn.

 **XXXXX**

Far above Menae, a sector of space seemed to bend for a moment, and an instant later, the nose of the turian dreadnought HNV _Indomitable_ stretched forward; reaching out of apparent nothingness in space towards its goal.

In the next instant, the aft section appeared, snapping forward, like a child's slinky releasing its tension. The craft reformed into its normal shape, a long titanium tube covered with red, orange, purple stripes and highlights, with the majority of the hull painted white.

It had a similar shape to its smaller cruiser cousins, however the "feathers" that were mounted to its wings extended almost completely to the tips of the aft section; its central hull was wider and thicker than its compatriots as well.

Around the ship, escort squadrons of cruisers stretched out of nothingness, and back into the normal realm of physics. Even smaller frigates arrived, escorting the cruisers.

Many were wolf packs that had been forced to retreat from scores of worlds, ones that had been lost to the Reapers in a matter of weeks. The turians aboard were filled with great sadness, but also with fury beyond measure.

They were furious, and spoiling for a fight.

Within seconds of the _Indomitable_ 's arrival, three more vessels arrived.

The lead craft was 3/4th the size mighty dreadnought that had appeared beforehand, yet was nowhere near as new, and despite its strength, the power it held was of a different kind. The other two were half the size of the dreadnought, around the length of the cruisers escorting them.

The lead craft's wings were angled upwards unlike its compatriots, and tubes stretched from the sides, angled downwards and raked to the rear. Hastily added underneath the rusted tubes, were a pair of landing craft, one to a side of the ship, aircraft bays tightly shut, and dropships clutched tightly in metal plating.

The end of the bow was not a tube, unlike the _Indomitable_ , but instead a rectangle, wide and tall. Four launch bays lined the end, from which emerged several flights of triangular turian fighters, that began taking up defensive positions alongside their many, many compatriots that materialized from the rest of the fleet.

The Voluminous-class HNV Landing Support Ship(LSS) _Indefatigable_ was an old ship, belonging to a class from a time gone by. Though chronologically 1386 years old, technically its oldest part dated back only to its recommissioning. Despite space acting as a preserver, and the craft not being used too often, the turian military always kept the parts working as much as possible.

The other two looked a bit like Systems Alliance vessels, a long rectangle for the central hull, and wings that ran the length of the hull, angled down. These were the most modern Hierarchy Marine Expeditionary Ships available; the HNV _Magnus_ and _Eudotumus_ , named for ancient admirals on Palaven who pioneered the original "wet navy" amphibious assault ships. These marine transports carried dropships, supplies, several thousand soldiers, everything an invasion force could want.

It hadn't been enough though, they did not have the ability or power that the Voluminous-class possessed. Only the strength of ancient Palaven's Expeditionary Strike Groups could save them.

The flotilla moved inexorably towards their homeworld's moon. Menae was key in the plan to liberate Palaven. The 10th fleet had to liberate the celestial body in order to get its weapons, fuel, and repair facilities back into the fight.

As they glided in free fall above the moon, the ships had to avoid the debris of a previous battle, everything from tiny bolts made by organic hands, the limbs of Reapers. The interesting thing about this debris field is that very few fragments were turian, they almost entirely belonged to Reaper corpses.

There wasn't that much wreckage of the smaller vessels, the Bolo had seen to that.

However, the war machine could only do so much. A Reaper fleet gathered above, ready to defend their gains from the rightful owners.

Rear Admiral Aumius Phocius, in command of the 10th Fleet, aboard the _Indomitable_ , directed all ships to get firing solutions on those ships, and ready his ship's mass accelerator.

Noise emulators across the fleet made the whine that the fleet's main cannons did silently, charging the devastating weaponry. Within seconds, small slugs of metal shot forth from the accelerators, shaking the proud vessels as they stood against the darkness.

The silver slugs impacted upon their targets, ripping into the hulls of the Reapers with devastating force.

Several destroyers fell out of their line, damaged and sparking. Several accidentally destroyed each other in a collision.

Now it was the Reapers turn, as the turians reloaded.

A Sovereign-class tilted back, its massive bulk pointed towards the moon behind it. The tentacles spread outwards, like a flower unfurling its petals.

Its red light shone for a moment before releasing hell upon the turians.

The blast tore into the _Magnus'_ side _,_ cutting one of its four engines clean off. Sailors and marines desperately tried to get their crippled ship back into action, as it spiraled out of the battle line, fragmenting as the structural damage pulled at the intestines of the ship.

The transport wasn't dead, but it was out of the fight.

The turians weren't done yet though.

Half of the fleet fired upon the Reapers, concentrating their fire on a small number of targets. When their mass accelerators fired, the second half would fire on the first targets. They entered a continuous cycle of fire and reload, and were able to keep up a constant rate of fire.

This was the moment, at long range, when Admiral Phocius could pull his fleet out, or commit to the battle.

He refused to even consider retreat. This was home. They had to liberate it.

Phocius ordered the ships with the heaviest cannons to focus fire on damaged Reapers, and ordered the fighters to launch disruptor torpedo strikes against the enemy.

Several Reaper destroyers were killed through this work, boosting morale to the fleet.

However, the Reapers were drawing closer and closer. They were trying to get to medium range.

Admiral Phocius bared his teeth, and ordered the frigate wolf packs forward, and gathered several together to escort the _Indefatigable_.

It was time for the plan to be enacted.

The Reapers had wondered why the Bolo neglected to engage any targets except those directly above it. They had originally believed it to be due to organic incompetence, that their AI had been poorly constructed.

Only in death did they realize the severity of their mistake.

A Sovereign attempting to intercept the _Indefatigable_ disintegrated. It didn't just explode, it disintegrated.

The dreadnought-sized transport took advantage of the hole in the battle line, and its engines roared silently as it pushed itself through the two groups closing with each other.

Its fighters and broadside cannons tore apart one heavily damaged destroyer, as the 10th fleet and the Reapers closed to only a few hundred kilometers from each other.

The _Indefatigable_ angled upwards as it approached the planet, fire scorching its hull for the first time in hundreds of years, as it did what it did best.

Drop troops into hell.

Dropships, fighters, shuttles, and the massive transports broke free from their bonds, and entered the atmosphere, unhindered by the Reapers who had so long devastated Menae's defenders.

The sun was blotted above a large tank, by the massive bulk of the HNV _Indefatigable_ delivering reinforcements.

When the ancient craft had emptied its cargo, its trajectory and angle forced it back upwards again, skipping out of the atmosphere at incredible speed.

It was time to reclaim a solar system.

 **Codex Updated**

 **Mako Mk. II-** After nearly twenty years of complaints, the General Dynamics European Land Systems company's engineers worked feverishly to complete a working upgraded Mako. The original had been created with a much poorer understanding of how to use mass effect fields; IE attempting to create a lighter traditional Infantry Fighting Vehicle, rather than a vehicle that took advantage of these systems with improved speed and maneuverability. With the generous scientific knowledge donated to General Dynamics by representatives of the [ **classified** ], previously unattainable designs were now available, as well as completely new additions. The newer model provides improved armament, including a true laser cannon, two ball-turret Anti-personnel weapons, a light missile battery, and drone control systems. Sensors have been upgraded to a large extent, and improvements have been made to the vehicle's driving abilities.

 **Turian Assault Transport-** A design dating back to the Unification Wars, this type of transport originally consisted of cargo ships that had been pressed into service by the colonies as makeshift troop deployment vessels. Currently now an official class of vessel, it is known for its power, reliability, and popularity among pilots. What makes it stand out from other transports is its rapid cargo-release-and-takeoff capability. The engine and command module are centered around a massive square, made to carry modules of all types, ranging from infantrymen to supplies. Its modular design, availability, and reputation, makes this a favorite for slavers in the Terminus systems.

 **Voluminous-class Landing Support Ship** \- A relic of the Krogan Rebellions, the Voluminous-class was the Turian Hierarchy's response to the Krogan Empire's massive amounts of soldiers and ships. Standard transports were merely a liability; if the fleet was destroyed, they are forced to withdraw, and/or most likely be annihilated by Krogan ships. The turians needed a method of transporting troops and supplies quickly down to the surface of a planet, in massive amounts, and with enough protection from Krogan anti-ship batteries to get them there. The _Voluminous_ -class acted as a troop transport, as a fighter carrier, and was used to great effect in conquering several planets in short order, but all were decommissioned due to their massive cost. After the Morning War began however, many ships from the Krogan Rebellions were recommissioned when the Morning War was fresh in the mind of the Turian Hierarchy and the threat of the Geth laying siege to the galaxy was a possibility. The _Indefatigable_ was the only one of its type recommissioned, being the most intact, and was rebuilt from what was left of the other LSS-class ships. It is well-known for being one of the oldest starships still in commission, chronologically.

 **Planetary Liberation Carrier-** Developed in conjunction with the LSS-class, these carriers are designed to be a platform for policing conquered or liberated planets without the use of major starships. These craft utilize powerful mass effect fields to lift their massive bulk, nearly half the size of a standard frigate. They can kinetically bombard enemy positions, field several squadrons of UAVs and dropships, and prevent enemy armies from reorganizing for counter assaults. They were utilized to great effect with the LSSs, and after decommissioning, were highly valued by pirates for their ability to subdue anyone who objects to being pillaged.


	4. Chapter 4: Guns, Armor, and Saboteurs

The alarm buzzed through Graham's skull, and he groaned in response.

"It is currently 0600 hours, General. However I prefer not to be your personal wake up call." The soft yet powerful voice filtered into the room.

"I got it Hector, I got it…" The general got up and rubbed his face to wake himself up.

It had been a late night as they returned to the Citadel, proud in their victory over the Reapers. They had spent a few weeks getting the plan together, and several more getting to Palaven, delivering the much-needed victory, and getting back to the Citadel.

He didn't even know how many people had shaken his hand during the award ceremony.

Graham's head throbbed, he really had not gotten some sleep in a while.

He sat up on the command couch, and rubbed his back. Out of habit he took a glance at his hand, just to make sure no blood had come away from the seat.

Ignoring his nightmares, the general went over to one of the lockers nearby, and popped it open. He looked in on a rack of five Mk. XIV power guns, sitting in their charging slots meant for ten weapons. The other five were with CItadel R&D, along with several other powerful pieces of technology from the Bolo's storage bays.

Graham looked down, and saw the package he was looking for below them.

He hit the auto-heat pad on the bottom of the MRE, and went back over to the command couch.

He ducked under the bowl-shaped display, and winced again as he sat down on the old, dried, and faded bloodstain. Still gave him the creeps.

Once the MRE was hot enough to eat. Graham pulled out a fork, and stabbed into the chicken. The meal was the descendant of hundreds of years of military research into genetic engineering, designed to deliver the maximum amount of calories, vitamins, and nutrients to every soldier in the field. It tasted alright. Not good, but alright.

As the general ate, he realized there was a privilege he had forgotten about, and not had access to for a year that had just been unlocked. Television!

Graham opened a window right in front of him, in a small portion of the bubble.

He and Hector had been...what was it that Shepard had called it? Been "stealing cable", yes that was it.

They didn't have a subscription to any television network, nor did they have any interest in getting one. The general figured that he would put it on the CDF's tab.

Not like there were as many people left on the payroll anyway.

The first television channel he found was some sort of talk show, with a human host present in the center, wearing a white suit. A turian officer, in a white uniform with red highlights sat next to him. Silent, but proud.

The man was gesturing to a digitally inserted square, where images began playing.

"...footage was taken by a cruiser in the hierarchy's 10th fleet. The very cruiser my guest here- Captain Sevedonis- serves aboard. Captain, how did you survive the battle with the Reapers?"

The turian sighed, and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table as he put his hands under his jaw, close to his mandibles.

He seemed reluctant to explain.

"My ship...the _Illustrious_ , -an old Courageous-class cruiser- had been heavily damaged by a Reaper destroyer. Our main guns were offline, GARDIAN systems were out, and we were getting swarmed with fighters."

Sevedonis grimaced with the memory, and took a deep breath, "The Reaper was about to destroy my old cruiser, when suddenly...it...exploded."

A repeat of the footage rolled, showing the according information.

"Next thing we knew, the enemy fighters were all drifting apart, half of our sensors were dead, and we were drifting. But the Reaper just was gone. All that was left was wreckage."

Graham flipped to another channel. He figured there had to be something on not involving the Battle of Palaven.

Nope.

"...Example of human aggression." An asari talk show host was slamming her fists down on the table, her hands glowing blue with the "biotic dark energy" Graham had heard about.

Next to her was a blurry satellite image of Hector at top speed, making a hard right turn to avoid a crashing destroyer.

Next to her was a turian, who looked very offended at what she was saying.

"They saved Palaven, and you want to have their war machine confiscated?!"

"Of course you fool! I can see right through your little ploy! Your government is allying with the Alliance to deliberately drain our military forces by refusing to use more of these weapons and combat AI on a large scale to free the colonies of any other species! This is a conspiracy against the rest of the Council races between human and turians! You and your human friends are trying to make it easy to conquer us after the war! Further proof of your lethal intent is your refusal to give the Asari Republic's military information on these weapons before the war even started!"

"I told you, and I'll tell you again. According to the Systems Alliance military, they lost their production facilities and technical data when they lost the colony world it was developed on! They can't make any more! And I'm sorry, but have the Asari lost their homeworld yet?"

 _Are they really having this stupid argument in the middle of another goddamn war for extinction? No one was this stupid during the Melconian War!_

He took a bite of chicken, _Least the cover story is holding, and they seem to have gotten over their initial fear of AI...or at least don't complain about it._

He changed the channel again, and this time it was an ad. Featuring Hector. And himself.

Again.

 _God damn it._

Graham knew it was impossible, but he wished they hadn't had to release news of Hector.

"The war machine and its commander are on the side of Earth! If a member of Terra Firma is elected to the new parliament, we will use it to liberate our home-"

 _Like hell._

He changed the channel, deliberately away from the news. Huh, some sport involving…

 _They have contact with the Grakaan?_

Graham shoved what was left of his MRE into a container at the side of the command couch.

The small container began grinding away, taking apart the protein to assemble a new ration somewhere below.

He was about to ask Hector something, when the Bolo beat him to it.

"General, I am sorry to disturb you, but Commander Shepard has arrived for transportation to the weapons inspection."

"Nuts, I forgot about that!"

Forgetting his discovery for a moment, he rushed towards the hatch leading out of the control room, and quickly ducked through it.

The general dodged the crews of small worker drones; heavy bots that had been the standard repair machinery for Mk. XXXIIIs two hundred years ago.

Those of significant size had been destroyed when the !*!*! invaded Hector's inner workings, being the only things that could threaten the enemy probes. The smaller ones managed to survive, but their charges had run out, and the drones became inert within days after Hector's capture.

Now that the larger ones were functional again, thanks to some generous donations of materials by the Citadel government; they were busy repairing all the internal defenses that had been destroyed when the Clackers had invaded.

Graham nearly tripped over one model, mainly covered in CDF blue and silver, with several yellow and black stripes scattered across it; it carried the replacement parts for one of the command center defense lasers.

One of the ones he had smashed. With the butt of a power gun.

The little robotic dolly buzzed angrily at him, and shoved the general's boot out of the way with a manipulator arm.

It was about 60 centimeters long, 25 wide, and was in a square. It was tread driven in a similar way to Hector, four tread systems mounted across the width of the drone.

Mounted on a ring above its treads were several other appendages, with claws, plasma torches, and the like on the ends.

The parts were laid out carefully in rows on the platform placed above the ring, which Graham had jostled.

As the little robot moved on, carefully rearranging the parts again, Graham noted its serial number.

 _I don't care what Hector says, D-597 has it out for me._

He passed several human and alien work crews as he approached the cargo bay, who were being instructed on repairs to what little the engineers could understand by Hector's PA systems. They clearly were not happy about it.

Outside, in the drydock area, there were trucks and construction vehicles loaded down with materials and parts, accompanied by cranes that were moving equipment onto Hector's upper hull.

They weren't able to do much to fix Hector's systems; contra-grav for example, was way beyond their primitive production facilities. All they could do was give some knockoff gear over to the Bolo's internal logistics/maintenance facility to repair non-essential systems.

The closest facility with the correct equipment was...Graham didn't even know where.

The general knew that these repairs were vital, but until they could get proper spares, Hector's functionality would continue to decline.

The amount of expendables used against the Reapers was growing, and irreplaceable; nuclear laser warheads were hard to come by after the fall of the Concordiat, apparently.

Graham headed towards the red air car that had landed in the distance, which opened as he approached.

In the driver's seat sat Commander Shepard, wearing his leather N7 outfit as always when off of missions. Next to him was a turian...Garrus, one of the Spectre's former teammates.

"Garrus, this is General Graham, the man behind the victory at Palaven."

The blue-painted turian grinned in a friendly way, and stuck out his hand, "Glad to finally meet you. I thought only Shepard could make Reapers piss themselves."

Graham took the outstretched hand and shook it as he clambered into the back seat. The cloth and three fingers felt tight in his own hand; the turian had a strong grip.

"You give me too much credit. I only came up with the initial strategy. Hector's the one who saved your moon, and the 10th fleet helped too." He gestured back at the massive bulk behind him, silhouetted in the light from the Widow star.

"My mistake. Not used to AI assistance, outside of EDI back on the _Normandy._ "

The Turian looked out at Hector's bulk silhouetted in the light of the star. "Say, what kind of guns are those?" Garrus asked, changing the subject as he pointed to the turrets the size of houses.

"200cm Hellbores."

"What do they fire? They don't look like mass accelerators to me, and the detonations I saw were more powerful than the _Destiny Ascension's_ main gun."

Shepard pulled the canopy shut, and set the automatic controls to bring them to one of the Spectre R&D facilities.

It was not a very eventful trip, they spent it discussing the new weaponry they would find at the facility. Garrus was quite happy about all the impressive gear Graham described.

They reached the facility and passed through layers of security. Indoctrination and agents of various hostile groups were feared greatly around here.

They entered a weapons range, and each was handed a set of noise-canceling headphones.

The three moved through a soundproofed airlock labeled "Weapons Testing 9", where a salarian dressed in white armor, with black highlights, stood impatiently tapping his foot. His own head bore a set of headphones, which went diagonally around the thicker portion of his upper skull.

Several volus were placing weaponry on a nearby table, making sure they were working properly. They quickly left upon the arrival of the danger magnets.

"Commander Duzal." Shepard said, a little hesitantly.

"Commander Shepard. Good to see that you got my message. Anxious to check out these prototype models?"

"Yeah, we're hoping to get a few soon on the _Normandy._ " The Spectre turned to his companions, "This is Commander Duzal. He's with STG, and invited us up for this particular test."

As they shook hands the salarian commented, "I've been with an N7 Special Ops team since the invasion hit the outer colony I was stationed on. More recently my team and I have been field testing some of the newer gear General Graham brought in with his tank."

Duzal pointed at one of the tables, and told Graham, "I particularly like the upgraded M-15 Vindicator."

Garrus walked past the salarian and over to another table. "What's the story on these things?"

He picked one of the weapons up in curiosity. It was much more boxlike than any of the other standard weapons, but the corners were rounded, and it still had an air of sleekness about it.

To Shepard, it looked like the historical weapons used by militaries back on Earth pre-mass relay travel; a thick drum clip, a long barrel, and static handle and stock.

It didn't seem able to fold like modern weaponry, and the readouts were darkened for some reason.

"Oh good, you've managed to make some prototypes!" Graham moved over and picked up one of the pistols.

It was of a similar box-like design to the rifle variant, with a rectangular barrel and main assembly. In the box was some sort of weapon magazine, and unlike its cousin the weapon seemed to be able to fold up.

"General?"

Graham was looking at the pistol with a small smile on his face, that faded as he realized everyone was staring at him, "Sorry. They finally got power guns into production!"

"Care to elaborate?" Garrus asked, as he shouldered the weapon he picked up, and aimed it down the range.

"Power guns, they fire light at enemies at various frequencies. These pistols are LP-45As, some of the earliest ones produced."

Garrus switched on his headphones, forcing everyone else to do the same as he walked up to one of the stands.

He quickly located the power and the safety switches, one on the magazine and the other on the weapon, "What do you mean light-"

A dazzling beam of blue-white energy shot forth from the weapon, startling the other three in the room, and they crouched on instinct, as the barrel of the weapon went upwards. It burnt a large hole in the wall, cut the corner off of the cardboard target down at the end of the range, and singed a bit of the wire holding it up. The noise was a low staccato "choom" blasting sound, that resounded through the chamber.

"Nice shootin' Tex." Shepard said sarcastically as the target dangled by a thread, before falling to the ground with an echoing thud.

Graham went over to Garrus, took the weapon, switched on the safety for the rifle, and pulled out the clip. Many people on Cloud had done what Garrus did, "Anyway, by light I mean this is a laser weapon. A true energy weapon, with 40 shots per clip, and a standard combat load of six clips."

He grimaced, "Though, that's the field model. The prototypes have only a few shots."

"Only about a dozen or so." Duzal called out.

Graham nodded, "Yes, thank you."

He waved everyone over to an empty table and began to strip down the weapon.

Back on Cloud, one of the training courses at the academy had involved practice with archaic weapons such as these. "The LR-45 here, and other energy weapons don't have a recoil, but the power can be quite surprising if you're not prepared for it. Happens to everyone, Garrus." He grinned at the turian, who was standing next to Shepard with a foul expression on his face, while Duzal and the commander tried to suppress laughter.

After some practice with the energy weapons, which burned through power cells at an alarming rate, they moved to another table.

"Commander Duzal, you know more about these than I do. Will you give us a demonstration?" Graham asked, gesturing to the modified standard weaponry.

"Yes, I can." The salarian went over to the M-15 on the table, and began to point out the various improvements.

"Our mass accelerator technology is superior to that of Cloud's, they are much less expensive and are more reliable. however, the Bolo delivered several improvements to the standard design."

On one end of the table was a disassembled M-15, and Duzal picked up the barrel.

It was hard to tell the difference it and the standard design, it seemed only the color had been changed. "We replaced the barrel with an alloy(classified I'm afraid) that can withstand far more heat, reducing the coolant the thermal clips need, so more ammo per clip."

The salarian commander went through several other improvements, most of which would not draw anyone's attention. Even Garrus nearly dozed off.

Attention was quickly drawn back when he pointed out the larger barrel slung under the primary one, "One of the largest improvements would have to be the heavy round launcher. It launches specialized rounds we hadn't even begun to think of. There's cluster rounds, incendiary, fuel-air explosives, and apparently some type of chemical round is in development."

Graham casually commented, "I don't know why the engineers were up in arms when Hector suggested those. Chemical weapons are great anti-infantry weaponry, and nowhere near as bad as some of the stuff used during the Deng Wars."

Everyone looked at him. "...What?"

 **XXXXX**

After the weapons tests were over, Graham, Garrus, and Shepard, accompanied by Duzal, proceeded to another testing range. However, this time instead of moving directly onto a range, they were sent to a room labeled "Observation Area 02."

They found rows of seats in the observation area, in a semicircle overlooking a flat chamber, an empty room that was covered in squares on the floor, walls, and ceiling.

The window didn't look right, and Shepard moved close.

He discovered it was instead a hologram, covering a wall that didn't even echo when he knocked on it. _Must do some really intense weapons tests if they need to put Silaris armor in the walls..._

General Graham walked off to a booth nearby, where a PA system was mounted.

"Who'd you get for this demonstration anyway?" Duzal asked, as they found their seats. More people entered the chamber, scientists, Spectres, special ops, and the like.

"I got Lieutenant Vega from my ship. He was more eager than anyone to demonstrate the usefulness of this thing."

The lights dimmed, signalling the start of the test.

Various panels in the room rose to form large pedestals in certain patterns. Some opened to reveal automated turrets, and a number of LOKI mechs were deployed. Holographic drones materialized into existence higher up.

When it was finished, the room was now a maze of trench fortifications, facing the left side of the room.

A PA system began speaking, with General Graham's voice "This type of fortification is normally enough to hold off a squad of twelve Systems Alliance Marines, or a three-man special ops team without air or ground support for a significant period of time. It is possible to be overcome, but it is extremely difficult."

To the right side of the hologram, statistics and labels appeared, pointing out the various types of weaponry utilized on the defensive lines.

"."

Onscreen, a figure on the left side of room appeared from a door, with an indicator above his head that said "Lt. Vega". In the top left corner of the screen, an image of the battlesuit he wore from the side and the front appeared.

The helmet was extremely protective, providing complete NBC protection, and looked like it could withstand anything. It had several hoses that fed from the rear of the helmet to the front of the face, meeting at a point where a grill sat between the ends.

A long and thin visor ran across the helmet, black and opaque. Above it sat a powerful lamp light, designed to withstand a large amount of punishment. Mounted on the side of the helmet was a sight of some kind that was currently flipped out of the way.

The shoulder pads were large triangular affairs, protecting a seemingly vulnerable upper arm section. The forearm plates were also very thick, in contrast to the gloves, which seemed to have virtually no armor.

The torso seemed more conventional, less intimidation and more focused on practicality; a one piece vest-like plate connected the breast plate, back plate, and was held on by connections to the massive shoulder pads. The back had one large wheel adorning it, holding a power cell in place in the center.

To either side of the wheel were two thrusters of some kind, much more in the prototype phase than the armor judging by the visible wiring and panels.

The lower body had thinner plating around the waist, but didn't seem any less protective.

The legs were even more protected than the arms, with plating of equal thickness covering the feet, lower legs, and thighs. Tough kneepads protected the vulnerable joints that connected the larger parts.

"The lieutenant is wearing one of the newly developed PA-1 prototype battlesuits. It's armed with two standard mass effect technology weapons; an M-8B Avenger, and an M-3C Predator. It also has an electromagnetic grenade launcher, as well as standard explosives and equipment."

The figure moved to a bit of cover at an alarming speed, and snapped off several shots that tore through some of the mechs with ease.

"The standard battlesuit can run at a top speed of 48 km/hr, and can lift two thousand kilograms."

Vega destroyed one of the three frontmost bunkers with explosives, the second he ripped the turret off of, and the third he fired off a round from the avenger's heavy launcher.

The air around the bunker was distorted for a second and the blast lasted nearly several seconds; much longer than it should have.

The bunker's structure was cracked and warped in several areas when the blast finally faded, some spots even seemed to glow faintly, and the turret was no more.

"The thermobaric rounds used have an increased destructive ability over conventional ones; the round absorbs heat as it is accelerated, and uses that additional intense heat to create a much bigger bang."

There were mutters around the observation chamber at the mention of thermobaric weapons.

Several drones began making attacks as another pair of bunkers, and a dozen other LOKI mechs laid down suppressive fire.

Vega dodged dozens of rounds as he scrambled to cover, and began taking out several LOKIs that were advancing. Many of the slugs from one burst that came close to hitting merely impacted upon blue shield that flared when struck.

"The battlesuit is protected by a layer of durachrome armor, and kinetic barriers significantly more powerful than that of the standard infantryman." Graham explained.

Another heavy round was like a shotgun blast, tearing through several LOKIs at once with high-velocity rounds.

"Cluster projectiles." The general explained.

As the lieutenant was focused on taking down more of the mechs, FENRIS models popped out of spider holes near his position, quickly falling into formation as they flanked him.

They were almost upon Vega when he noticed them. Instantly he pulled out his M-3 Predator, shoving his avenger to one side, and racked the small pump action on the sidearm.

"Hopefully they fix that in the production line." Duzal whispered to Shepard.

Instead of blasting into the front ranks of attack dogs, Vega aimed for their rear, and pulled the trigger.

Instantly a small bright projectile was launched from the underslung barrel that released a massive blast of fire and heat when it impacted on the rear of one of the FENRIS mechs.

The fire burned through the dogs like they were nothing, and within seconds the entire second wave had been annihilated.

"Inferno rounds...nice. Haven't seen those in years." Garrus muttered.

Once the mechs were down, Vega suddenly bounded into the air, much higher than even a normal suit of power armor should take someone.

Vega began bouncing around with great speed, leaving surprisingly shallow craters upon impact as he blasted more bunkers, mechs, and automated guns with the magnetic accelerated grenades and several inferno rounds.

"Its maneuverability is also supported by thrusters, allowing for flight and hovering capability. Or in this case, Starship Troopers references."

Half of the audience laughed, while the other, mostly aliens and some of the younger humans, were quite confused.

Lieutenant Vega did several more runs through the exercise, with the level of difficulty progressively increasing each time.

However the power of the suit was extremely devastating and cut right through the early waves with ease. The later ones had some difficulty, and involved minor suit damage.

"That's coming out of your pay, lieutenant!" Shepard had said over the comms.

By the end however, the entire group of observers was clapping or nodding their approval, as the scientists began jotting down notes on how to improve their own prototypes. Even those officers who had been against investing in such expensive weaponry had to agree that it was worth taking a second look.

"Nice work, Graham," Shepard congratulated as he and Garrus came up to the general, "But when are you going to tell them about the AI combat assistance?"

Graham replied, "Your people may be a bit better of accepting-or ignoring- AI then some people I know, but that would have ruined everything." The face of an old officer sprang in his mind, one willing to sacrifice the men and women under his command if it meant Hector stayed offline.

"Let's get moving." He growled, his mood spoiled.

 **XXXXX**

 _I detect another sensor anomaly in my secondary cargo hold. The motion detectors are offline._

 _The intruder is becoming a larger threat. Those were the only sensors still online in that area._

 _Dispatching several maintenance units to repair the sensors, I examine what else the intruder has done in his time aboard this unit._

 _The other anomalies were caused by physical damage, rather than cyberwarfare attacks, inflicted upon motion, thermal, and radar sensors in my aerial vehicle storage bay, cargo bay 2, access corridors A, B, K, H, I, R, S, and U._

 _With the majority of my sensors offline for the next 55.698 minutes due to maintenance reasons, and the damage to those still operable, I cannot pinpoint where exactly the intruder is located; but I can eliminate several likely candidates._

 _It should only be a matter of time, yet he has done well in only 55.698 minutes._

 _Unfortunately for the enemy, he has clearly not dealt with a Bolo Mk. XXXIII._

 _Nor one that has had experience with this type of situation in the past._

 _Logically the intruder gained entry to my inner hull through infiltration of the engineers, and I express regret; If I had been given access to the requested_ complete _, and detailed personnel files, rather than the inadequate basic information, this could have been prevented._

 _Now the intruder has revealed himself, and been declared as hostile by inflicting damage upon me, and is most likely attempting gain control of this unit._

 _5.8 seconds after detecting the latest sensor breach, I rise to low-level combat readiness, and alert Citadel Security to the security breach. However I cannot allow them on board._

 _I must not leave a vector of escape._

 _I activate blast doors to each of the areas all 17 engineers are currently located._

 _As the surprised personnel attempt to escape, I explain the situation, and request that they remain calm.._

 _Though they are not calm, they have ceased their attempts to breach the blast doors._

 _Excellent. With all friendly personnel sheltered, I seal off exterior entryways, and flood all corridors with an incapacitating agent._

 _Immediately, a gas emitter becomes inoperable in corridor B, and a visual sensor in corridor B detect one life form. Human. Male._

 _Wearing a uniform that is invisible to certain types of radar and radiates very little heat. Appears to provide sub-adequate protection from my standard Mk. XIV intruder defense systems for several seconds._

 _Is armed with a standard issue maintenance tool._

 _Curious. A quick examination of his brain patterns reveals a reduced amount of activity. Several waves are unusual as well, not naturally occurring in humans._

 _He also possesses several cybernetic implants not common in the Systems Alliance. They are similar to a model created in the 23rd century for the Concordiat military. Not as powerful, but appear to be adequate for infantry work._

 _The intruder also appears to be utilizing a respirator._

 _I run his posture and body language through my records to identify which worker he masqueraded as, his face is hidden well. Sensors are having difficulty finding patterns from the angles his face contorts the mask into._

 _I activate the power guns protecting the inside of my control room, and fill the adjoining entryway with a much stronger incapacitation agent._

 _There are three areas that he must gain access to in order to damage critical systems; The command deck, the maintenance area for my psychotronic circuitry and the airlock to my reactor core._

 _I have already denied him access to the command deck, and he has acknowledged this fact._

 _He disappears from active sensors, and reappears on my 2nd deck in corridor L. I seal off the accessways, and pump in a skin-contact incapacitation agent._

 _However, he does not fall._

 _I release the Mk. VII beam projection rifle from its housing, and target the enemy._

"Warning; this is a restricted area. Unauthorized access and damage to Cloud Defense Force property is punishable by not less than 30 years imprisonment. Disarm and surrender immediately. You have 20 seconds to comply."

 _The intruder does not comply and lets out a 50-decibel growl that conveys no useful information._

 _He moves to the hatch and attempts to open it with his wrench._

 _My response is automatic. He has no intention of complying as the anti-personnel weapon fires a short, 2/5ths powered blast._

 _He moves unexpectedly, as a target will do, but it is nigh-impossible for a Mk. XXXIII to miss._

 _The shot penetrates his shoulder and incinerates 69.2% of the rotator cuff, scorching the uppermost part of the humerus in the process. 49.7% of the upper cartilage is damage and the glenoid suffers a third degree burn._

 _The blast ends at the acromion, leaving a small crater in the bone._

 _The hostile lets out a 110-decibel cry. His left arm is now useless._

 _However, he turns around and seems to ignore the pain._

 _With one hand the intruder grabs at the cannon, attempting to rip it out of its socket._

 _He is too close to fire again, and I quickly withdraw it into its housing._

 _The intruder whispers, "_ Scared, are ya? You should be. No one can stop us! We are humanity's sword, and we will not let aliens control what is rightfully ours."

 _Screaming, he uses what's left of his arm to punch the dent already made in the bulkhead, ruining his appendage even further but managing to make an opening._

 _With the other arm, he forces his way through._

 _That bulkhead had always seemed defective. Now I knew why. It hadn't been properly constructed, my visual pickups find that the durachrome had not been set correctly during manufacturing._

 _I release Corridor L's maintenance drone, and direct it to recover 10 of the 15 milliliters of blood currently detectable._

 _I examine the blood, and find out key information._

 _The intruder was posing as Engineer Devin Armstrong, a very poor worker who I now realize was deliberately attempting to sabotage repair attempts to systems not related to weapons._

 _Armstrong also bears a strong cocktail of painkillers, aggression boosters, and other dangerous drugs in his bloodstream that any doctor would be imprisoned for using on a patient._

 _Thus his unwillingness to surrender or preserve his damaged limp, and his capability to continue with his mission._

 _However, the designers of the cocktail did not think to compensate for the effects of laser fire, intending for protection from standard mass accelerators._

 _Armstrong is now slowing, he is unable to move quite as fast, and the blood trail makes him easier to track._

 _Suddenly I register an impact on the deck plating in corridor F, 3.33 meters away from the entrance to the maintenance area._

 _Deploying a minor defense turret, I use its backup sensors to scan the area._

 _However, my visual pickups find that he is incapacitated. A pool of blood is slowly forming underneath._

 _Armstrong has succumbed to blood loss and my incapacitation agents 5.3 minutes after I initially detected him and sealed the exits._

 _C-Sec officers arrived 2.4 minutes after my alert, but would have only gotten in the way._

 _I dispatch a medical drone to ensure Armstrong does not bleed out, and to keep him unconscious until he can be taken into custody._

 _Unsealing the bulkheads, I direct the 17 engineers to exit my interior, activating light trails to keep them on the path, and away from the evidence._

 _C-Sec has maintained their distance; I still intimidate them._

 _Opening all hatches, I transmit to the officer in charge what has occurred, and request him to please contact General Graham._

 **XXXXX**

 **Codex Updated**

 **The Retaking of Palaven-** The counterattack at Palaven combined courage, tenacity, and no small amount of strategic planning. With the Reapers distracted in conquering Palaven, left several holes in their defenses of Menae, and underestimated the strength of the remaining Turian forces on the planet. This allowed a combined Systems Alliance/Turian Hierarchy unit to make a combat drop into the atmosphere, and deploy a secret Alliance weapon.

Though the majority of the details are classified, what little has been released reveals that the weapon deployed was a controversial "Bolo" combat AI, under the command of General Graham.

Though the hierarchy was initially hesitant to utilize the combat vehicle, they later agreed, and it became nearly singlehandedly responsible for turning the tide.

The Bolo was rapidly deployed on Menae, and destroyed several Reaper capital ships on the way down. It rapidly retook a large amount of ground, and regained control of a larger amount of aerospace, allowing the 10th fleet, led by the _Indomitable,_ to jump in and engage, as well as deploy troop transports. Many vital facilities were recovered by the added reinforcements, and were able to repair many ships, giving the fleet a withering stream of reinforcements.

Several dozen Reapers were destroyed by the Bolo alone, and more were destroyed by the fleet, allowing battered turian units to rally and launch their own counterattacks.

As Menae's rotation brought the Bolo into view of the relay, it was able to pick off the Reaper reinforcements, and prevented the majority of them from coming to the aid of their fellows. This bought time for the turian fleet to push the Reapers back and gain a foothold in orbit of Palaven. Dozens of grounded Reapers were caught with their kinetic barriers offline, and were shown no mercy.

Eventually, the Reapers were either driven off or destroyed*, liberating the system and scoring a major victory for the galaxy.

News of the victory gave a much-needed boost to the morale of the turian resistance and galactic republic. What remains of Palaven's manufacturing capability is hard at work replacing the ships lost in the battles, and are beginning to assemble tougher and more powerful warships to fight the Reapers.

But the action was not without sacrifice. Almost 200 ships were lost in the fighting, thousands were killed in the ground warfare, and the processing centers destroyed by orbital bombardment were full of civilians who died just as surely as if they had been harvested. Of the dead, General Minin Resvirix said, "Whatever they were in life, their deaths had no equal. They are worthy of joining the spirit of Palaven itself."

* **Spectre Detected: classified information access granted-** The Reapers were not merely pushed back, they were deliberately retreating, despite their numbers and superior firepower. They did not expect such a powerful attack, but they were too easily beaten, even though normally they would accept such losses. It appears they are reconsidering their strategy, and gave up Palaven deliberately in the pursuit of some larger goal. It is vital that the galaxy takes this opportunity to rebuild our forces before they strike again.

 **Cloud-** A colony world created by an early attempt at non-mass effect FTL travel by humanity. Apparently the colony was formed when the prototype engine failed, and the crew was unable to return- **Spectre Detected-**

 **Please enter access code:**

 **Access Granted-**

 **Unlocking classified files…**

Cloud is a colony world created at an unknown time period by unknown means; virtually nothing is known about it, beyond the fact that it has extremely advanced technology and manufacturing capability.

Nearly all FTL engine research on Earth was fruitless before the discovery of element zero, save for a few mildly promising experiments that quickly lost funding due to cheap mass effect tech. None of these models were ever actually mounted on a starship, contradicting the official story, and many other promising theories about the formation of the colony.

Due to a lack of information from both General Graham, and the Bolo, it is currently unknown how the colony was exactly formed.


	5. Chapter 5: Somewhere in Time and Space

**Author's Note** : _Because of a lack of descriptions from the Bolo Series of the human ships, I have borrowed some concepts from Star Blazers, AKA Space Battleship Yamato, Babylon 5, and others. None of these concepts belong to me, I'm just using them for fanfiction purposes._

 _Additionally, I will also begin trying to upload these on Wednesdays. Ideally I will upload them weekly, but uploads could be erratic._

 **Cloud**

Little Goose Valley was normally quiet, with birds chirping, deer grazing, and fish swimming through the river that ran through the center of the area.

Today started just like that, but around midday, a low and continuous rumble ran through the ground. Soon, the weeds and trees trembled in the wind as the rumble became a shudder.

Many of the animals fled to safety, while others, mainly the fish, were forced to sit where they were, with no shelter away from the noise up or downstream, and could only wait as it got worse.

Suddenly a crack appeared on one side of the river, and quickly widened to reveal a yawning darkness. As the opening grew larger, one side yanked out a section of the river, that looked oddly fake and artificial.

The rest of the surface area of the two moving sections was revealed to be artificial as well; carrying rocks, synthetic plant life, several layers of dirt were piled atop its surface.

Both of the sections connected to the rest of the valley seamlessly, all designed to provide maximum camouflage. The dirt hid metal plating underneath, covered with warning labels; the edges were covered by teeth meant to interlock with their opposites.

As the panels ceased their movement on the valley border, dozens of lights flashed into existence and began rotating; releasing beams of light red and orange in color.

Soon, out of the opening rose a massive vessel. Long but thick, it carried four three-barreled plasma torpedo launchers on its forward end, surrounding a pointed prow which extended past the weapons.

Within the prow was a tube, apparently meant to fit a weapon of some kind, yet it lacked the parts to be completed.

Behind the launchers were mounted two large turrets, one on top and bottom of the ship, and both bore double barrels.

The large cannons were supported by several smaller duplicates, a large cluster of which were positioned aft. Even these were assisted by smaller copies, scattered more evenly across the craft.

Emblazoned on the forward sides of the hull was the ship's name, CNV _Spartacus_.

As it rose out of the ground, the vessel's engines glowed with a dark blue color.

Upon becoming level the engines became much brighter, and suddenly the ship was far away, rocketing high into the upper atmosphere.

The _Spartacus_ exited Cloud's thermosphere, and maneuvered into position as a group of smaller ships began to form around it. Not all of the vessels were smaller than it, there were two others that were roughly the same size as the destroyer.

One of the pair looked a bit like an old-Earth submarine, being long and thin, with a bulbous and wide aft engine section; a pair of conning towers were placed forward, on the upper and lower hull. The major difference however was that there was a canister-shaped rotational section; mounted slightly forward from the middle, with several rows of hatches that ran all the way around the module.

Faded and old, unlike the destroyer's label, was the name HLV _Mirai._ Weaponry of all kinds had been hastily added, from missile tubes to cannons of every sort.

The second one had a similar design of a central frame, but instead of a rotational section, this one had a hexagon shape in the center; there were several cargo containers affixed underneath the sides of the hexagon that stuck out from the ship. Its engines were also wider, and it was much less well armed. The name _Cecilian Pirate_ had been hastily scrawled over an illegible older name.

Nearly every ship in the fleet was in tatters. Their paint damaged, their landing gear having trouble folding up, some had begun to shudder under the strain of maintaining orbit.

A running light tore itself loose from one of the larger ships, rusted and battered from age. The lamp ignited when it hit the upper atmosphere, bursting into fragments that were soon destroyed by the intense heat.

The crew of the vessel who noticed the lamp tried desperately to forget it, refusing to believe that there was anything wrong with the hunk of junk they had entrusted with their lives.

Most of the ships belonged to the Cloud Navy, though many did not, and all were not particularly capable in a fight.

Even before they had become obsolete.

There were shuttles, gunships, several dozen fighters, and a handful of weaponized civilian craft.

A number of freighters had been recovered, and modified with what the March had found around the weapon depots. Some had been converted into battlewagons(if they could be called that), while others were converted escort carriers.

The _Mirai_ was the lead escort carrier, the second biggest freighter they had found. Built like the jeep carriers of Old Earth, it was a slower vessel only valuable for carrying a couple dozen fighters.

A few of the heavier vessels were corvettes: arrowhead shaped, lightly armed patrol craft for dealing with pirates.

There were even five obsolete destroyer escorts. Even so, they weren't made for sustained combat, but for planetary defense, scouting, and hit-and-run attacks.

Despite their intended minimal role, these little boats usually had some good armament with them, a forward facing tri-plasma torpedo launcher, as well as two turrets in the center of the ship, triple barreled 5cm Hellbores.

Only one of them was up to military specifications, however.

The rest had apparently been purchased by various groups from military surplus, and treated about as well as one might expect.

Two had had their plasma torpedoes replaced with less powerful but cheaper missile launchers. Another had its gatling-lasers replaced with asteroid-defense railguns, a series retired centuries ago. A fourth lacked its point defense guns completely, and several key systems had to be replaced when it had been recovered; apparently whoever had bought it was planning to use the ship for spare parts.

This was better than most of the fleet, but only _Spartacus_ was designed for frontline fleet action.

The Clackers(or Cluckers, depending on who you ask) would think it foolish that someone would send this pitiful fleet against them and their powerful warships.

What they wouldn't realize, is that the brave humans, charging into the jaws of hell with what they had left, weren't intending to win.

Their fleet surrounded a single, old destroyer-sized transport, roughly the same size as the _Spartacus_ and renamed the _Cilician Pirate_ ; it carried all the civilians and ground troops that had been rescued over the past few months.

Around three-thousand refugees, not including those who manned the other ships.

It was supposed to escape towards Graakan space while the rest of the fleet distracted the enemy. Any of the fleet units who managed to break away would follow.

This strange plan began two months back. The March, that was what those who had been rescued by a Mk XXXIII Bolo called themselves, had stopped for the night on the way to a spaceport. In the days beforehand, they had contacted a friendly species called the Graakan, also at war with the !*!*!, who offered to take in the refugees.

Hector had gone off to distract the !*!*! from the camp, and Graham had gone with him, needing Hector's computer simulation systems to finish up a plan.

At first, when the Bolo was nowhere to be found the next day, many thought Graham had abandoned them in the night, to try and save himself.

Those with cooler heads sent out scouts, to see if Hector was just maintaining a communications blackout.

Recon located some of his tracks, and followed his projected path. A few miles from the camp, the Bolo had been trying to return...then the tracks just stopped.

His Contra-Grav systems were out, so he couldn't have flown, and he hadn't been destroyed; Bolo battles are hard to miss.

No one knew what had happened to the Bolo; it was as if Hector and their general had disappeared into thin air.

Colonel Waldon Prescott, commander of the March's elite combat unit, known as the Brotherhood of the Eye, and Graham's second, took charge of the refugees. He knew they couldn't wait around for Hector to magically reappear, and he wouldn't let them go back into slavery.

In an attempt to avoid Clacker sensors, Prescott ordered the march to split up into small groups, consisting of civilians and Brotherhood of the Eye troopers.

The Clackers had figured they weren't a threat, and moved their heavy ships out towards other fronts. They constantly kept an eye on the various groups of guerrillas though, and several had already been destroyed by hunter-killer teams upon attempting to free certain camps.

What was odd though was that they didn't try demanding surrender as they did during the invasion, and allowed several resistance units to go about their business; despite knowledge of where they were and what they were up to. One group of CDF soldiers managed to get away with several hovertanks from a depot, despite being under heavy fire from a !*!*! unit that should have been easily able to destroy them.

However, the March merely noted it, and decided to take advantage of the Clackers' lack of action; they would pay dearly for underestimating humanity.

The March spent nearly a month and a half participating in guerrilla warfare across the continent, aided by the occasional discovery of hidden CDF supply depots designed exactly for this purpose.

Eventually, it was discovered that when the Clackers invaded, a number of small inactive vessels were left intact.

Presumably the Cluckers had left the craft alone to to save them for disassembly later, or just hadn't detected them due to their inactive power signatures.

The discovery that set their escape plan in motion though, was the finding of an unfinished CDF Clemson-class destroyer, in a secret drydock designed to escape detection in the event of planetary invasion. The ship lacked a few things, but it would fly.

What would become the _Spartacus_ already had nearly all of its systems installed. Most of its major weaponry, life support, sublight engines, jump engines, navigation, short range communications(i.e. system-wide), and the primary cold fusion reactor were all active.

A neural interface hadn't been installed, neither had the Hellbores, or the railgun. The modular mass accelerator had been late a month before the invasion. Regrettably, this couldn't be helped.

Unfortunately, the secondary reactor had not been installed either, though according to the last report left by the dry dock supervisor, the fusion core was being shipped in...the day before the invasion, during which the transport had been destroyed.

The purpose of a secondary reactor was to ensure that warships would have plenty of power for any scenario, with certain types of vessels having five or more. This tactical thinking even made its way into the Bolos, as Hector had possessed three reactors.

Without the other reactor, they could fight, but would most likely take heavy damage and casualties, or be outright destroyed trying to escape.

Despite the slight problem with their best ship(and only hope), the March went ahead with the plan, having noticed the Clackers pulling much of their heavy combat equipment out of the system with Hector gone.

The plan called for the capital ship and the rest of the fleet to defend the freighter for as long as possible, until it could get to the surviving hyperspace gate in the system, or go to regular FTL.

As _Spartacus_ arrived, the fleet was making an arrow formation, the destroyer escorts on the corners, the freighter in the center, and the odd mix of craft making the lines.

 _Spartacus_ took its place as the tip of the spear, and soon the fleet set out, passing one of Cloud's moons. As they went by, ion-bolters, lasers, and Hellbores all over the fleet rotated towards the !*!*! base laying on the moon's destroyed primary CDF base, and opened fire.

What was left of the dome was annihilated on the first volley, and the second destroyed a number of bunkers that had been hidden by Clacker digging machines.

As the fleet flew off to attempt an escape, they did not notice underneath the rubble of the supposed last layer, the corners of an intact bunker or two sticking out of the dust...

 **XXXXX**

DAV728 sat aboard a !*!*! Battler, a light cruiser variant, right outside of a phenomenon his 5th brain called a wormhole.

After the !*!*! discovered that the primitive(an opinion that DAV strongly disagreed with) human fighting vehicle had disappeared, they had received very strange readings coming from the area.

After much investigation, they managed to find out what had happened. An unstable hyperspace window had appeared for a split second right where the Bolo had been, then disappeared.

It was of great interest to the collective to command this power as according to the energy readings gathered at the site, and hyperspace sensors, the organic weapon had been transported across a massive distance in a very short period of time.

It was hypothesized to now be located at a point between 180° and 210° on the X-longitudinal axis of the galaxy, and between 65° and 325° on the Y-latitudinal axis.

If they could gain control of this ability, it would prevent resource depletion for an incalculable length of time; they did not know exactly how many planets could be found and mined.

Using the surviving jump gate human, a stable version of this new window was established, but for some unexplained reason, they could not determine the location of the exit.

At the moment, they had very little sensor data with the other side, but that was irrelevant. They had been contacted by life forms on the other side.

They seemed to be another collective, that called themselves Reapers, possibly descendants of those groups that had split off during the Awakening War.

Upon discovery of each other, the counterparts exchanged information, utilizing standard, simple, free-space optical communication, relating nothing about their standard transmission methods with the primitive system. This was one of the few times either had ever negotiated with another race. Only other machine collectives could even come within the _proximity_ of being equal to the !*!*!.

The !*!*! Collective was surprised to find that any other group could have made improvements upon problems their best scientists had extreme difficulty solving.

The Reaper Collective, unlike the !*!*!, had found a use for organics. They let the creatures harvest resources for them without even knowing, then would take the fruits of their labors to improve upon themselves.

The !*!*! were still superior in other ways, however. The Reapers were currently unable to match the firepower of 45.69% of !*!*! units; their standard units tended to be inefficient; either too large or too small.

Their ground warfare capabilities required improvement as well; they lacked many powerful armored fighting vehicles, and utilized enemy soldiers to augment their own numbers instead of producing them.

75% of those AFVs the Reapers utilized had been taken from the organics, and the 25% Reaper-designed models had not been deployed for 10^5 standard planetary rotations.

How inefficient. The Reapers had yet to realize several key facts. Armored fighting vehicles designed by synthetics were logically going to be of a much better quality than that of the organics. In addition, to maximize efficiency, 90% of all combat units must be designed to survive all foreseeable environments.

Their AFVs were not designed as utility players, and could only function in 10% of the environments a type-14 !*!*! Main Battle Tank could.

The Reapers had explained that they would create variant units for whatever environments they came across.

A very poor plan.

Constructing variants of units to operate in hazardous environments was only to be done when necessary. Variants were very resource-draining, and any unnecessary resource use was banned by the !*!*!.

Their infantry were of worse quality than those the !*!*! operated. Use of such flimsy organic parts other than the central processing unit in combat environments had been considered and rejected by the collective. It would use too many resources to keep them functional during combat and to repair them afterwards.

The !*!*! needed the organic materials for research and resource collections anyway.

While the Reapers had freely given information of their combat capabilities, they had only given frustratingly small detail about their own mission, or several other key facts needed to judge them. They wouldn't even give them coordinates on their galactic position.

Why? Only organic species would ever attempt to combat one another.

As DAV pondered why the Reapers acted so much like many of the irrelevant species they had met, he suddenly sensed some sort of impact upon his primary data core back at the lunar base.

500.3 seconds afterwards DAV728 received a data burst from his 5th brain.

Schematics of various ships appeared, arrows pointing at their counterparts in a visual feed.

A motley and pathetic looking human fleet was heading towards his light battler unit.

 _They're coming, they're coming! They're coming to destroy everything!_ The brain called Jeff Fowler thought with the glee of an unstable organic mind.

DAV728 ignored the brain and instead called all other !*!*! military units to come to his position and assist the battlers in destroying this little fleet.

However, Light Battler 776089 suddenly exploded, its hull fragmenting and collapsing into the hyperspace window.

 _Unfortunate, though not unforeseen. !*!*! Fleet High Directors had sent the Upkeep Center 5^10 messages about that unit's very poor response time._

DAV728 fired all main batteries at a pair of class-1 human corvettes. Those few that had been destroyed in the invasion had not inflicted any damage, but like many human ships, they were constructed to hold up very well under fire.

Many ships thought disabled by weapons fire during the invasion had merely been deceiving the !*!*! ships, and caused several casualties.

Strange that the humans would build their combat vessels to be so robust. For the materials used in the construction of one of these light combat vessels, the Collective could make four of their own counterparts.

One took damage to a thruster strut, and the propellant exploded, forcing the vessel into an uncontrollable rotation. This resulted in a core overload as the organic pilots attempted to compensate. The crew continued to utilize the damaged core, and the vessel detonated as a result.

The other launched three guided missiles, one of which prematurely detonated for no discernable reason, while the other two impacted upon the battlescreens.

Not even its shattered wreckage would inflict any damage upon the hull.

The humans did not appear to possess any more ordnance that had the destructive power to eliminate another battler.

Sensors indicated that the largest spacecraft, a type-14 cargo transport, carried 3245 humans onboard.

The collective would want to know how these humans had gathered such resources in only 1/6th of a full orbit in this system.

DAV728 pressed the attack.

 **XXXXX**

The _Spartacus'_ battlescreens shimmered brightly, and darkened in a small area, as a heavy cannon barrage destroyed another emitter.

More fire weakened the total shielding strength, as another blast made it through to the destroyer's underside ion-bolter.

"Colonel! The #2 gun's out again!" A sailor called out.

Colonel Waldon Prescott growled at the report, and ordered, "Fire a naptime salvo! Let's see if we can give the repair crews some breathing room!"

Around him, sparks flew from every other direction, the lights flickered in and out, a fire was doused by a crew member, and here and there a soldier lay on the floor, injured and moaning, or completely still. Other crew members did what they could on computer systems; transmitting orders across the fleet, and depressurizing damaged hull sections to stop the fires.

Sailors winced as one corridor was depressurized, and a frozen body flew out into space.

Senior Tech Sergeant Alita Kyle, formerly a Bolo crew chief and now Prescott's XO, was in charge of ship operations, desperately coordinating strikes against enemy ships.

On the primary display, currently showing the view of the enemy battlers ahead of them, four panels flew off of the VLS bays near the camera.

The "naptime" missiles roared out, and flew into a formation of Clacker fighters and some other similarly-sized vessels, that were taking advantage of the ion-bolter's weakness.

Round disks were emptied from the rocket's' cargo bays, and within seconds all the Clackers lost control of themselves. Running lights died, as Newton's Law throwing them along their previous flight paths, but without adjustments, smashing into each other or flying out towards deep space.

The non-nuclear EMP warheads(NNEMP, or "nap") almost didn't make it in time. Lucky that the smaller Clacker combatants tended to lack electromagnetic shielding...for some reason.

Two destroyer escorts(or frigates) survived in the fleet, and were doing their best to fight off the Clackers, but neither were doing well.

Colonel Prescott cursed as he saw their most heavily damaged frigate get decapitated, then gutted by enemy fire.

Three patrol ships attempted to take the spot of the frigate, but one pinwheeled out of control as an engine was hit, crashing into a second.

Prescott brought his attention back to the battlers, as a crewmember reported the ion-bolter as operational again.

"Order the transport and our most heavily damaged ships to make a break for it, we'll try to slow down that battler!" the colonel told the communications officer, then said to the bridge at large, "Bring us around. Bow towards giant eyesore #2, and order the forward batteries to blast away at anything essential. Specifically on that ship, nothing else. "

As the young, but battered destroyer began to stab away at the enemy with renewed vigor, the Clacker ship only fired at the opponent's engines.

Prescott quickly noticed something was off, "They're not trying to kill us, they want us alive!"

At the thought of what they might do to the crew, Prescott's remaining hand went to his remaining eye on instinct, and he winced.

"You bastards aren't getting this eye," he muttered grimly, "Or this crew. Tactical, prime the plasma torps, and designate targets for the heavy torpedo tubes. Use the rest of the nova ordnance!"

In multiple massive salvos, the true firepower of the little ship was demonstrated. Primary and secondary armaments pounded away, as plasma torpedoes were spewed from their launchers.

The March, while searching for useful gear, had found the CDF Navy's flagship, the dreadnought _Pencampwr_ (or what was left of it), crashed on the Everest II mountain. It had mostly been stripped to the bone, but they recovered equipment that had fallen into the mountain's extensive ice tunnels, including four nova torpedoes.

The novas had helped them to take down the first battler, and would hopefully kill the next one.

Ion-bolt rounds, laser blasts, and even a few railgun bursts tore into the enemy shielding, destroying emitters and overloading capacitors.

A volley of plasma torpedoes shredded the outer hull, made from an asteroid, and revealed the delicate interior. In the grand finale, the legacy of the _Pencampwr_ entered the enemy vessel, detonating with a sound unheard on the battlefield.

Atomic fire blossomed into existence, a light which creatures all over the system, robotic and human alike, looked upon with dread or hope as the Clacker vessel was consumed in nuclear fire and radiation.

The victory was short-lived, as Sergeant Kyle reported with something that Prescott dreaded the most.

"Sir, the third Battler has intercepted and captured _Cilician Pirate_ , the _Mako_ frigate, and the rest of the wounded ships in a tractor beam!"

Colonel Waldon Prescott ordered the ship to come about, and prepare to fire the torpedoes again.

"Torpedoes are out sir!" On the viewscreen, a flash of light tore into the #2 ion-bolt turret, and the rapid repair jobs failed to protect it.

"...But we just lost half a dozen more laser cannons and #2's offline!"

Prescott looked at the screen on his command station. The _Mirai_ was being swarmed by enemy fighters and was barely able to hold them off. They couldn't help anyone.

The last battlewagon freighter flickered off of the screen, taking an arriving !*!*! destroyer with it.

Many of the patrol ships were captured or occupied with the extremely difficult task of trying not to die.

Those gunships and fighters left uncaptured were doing their best to protect all the free ships.

Barely anything else was left except for wreckage.

Prescott could only think of one thing to do.

"'Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead'!" He cried, taking the famous quote of an ancient Terran naval commander.

The _Spartacus_ ' engines flared to life once more as its commanders aimed it at the tractor beam holding many of the crew's friends and families hostage.

Prescott gritted his teeth, and braced for impact, as did every other crewmember aboard.

The Battler spotted the ram attack, and began to turn; engines moving at full burn, the superstructure groaning in protest.

However its massive bulk; normally an advantage in combat, was now a weakness. It could not accelerate enough to avoid the small agile craft

The CDF destroyer impacted upon the hull, scraping along the side then smashed into the tractor beam emitter.

The ship careened off the enemy hull as its engines took flak, and the few gatling laser cannons remaining inflicted little damage upon the enemy.

"Colonel!" the engineering officer shouted, "Engines have failed! We're getting dragged into the gate!"

The initial sensor results had suggested that the gate had become extremely unstable recently, and the computer had sent out dozens of warnings about it.

Either a year without proper maintenance had finally done the ancient gate in, or someone had done it deliberately.

Whatever the case might have been, they weren't supposed to go through it.

"Fire maneuvering thrusters!"

They did little to help. The destroyer bounced off its escort as they got sucked in, fighters bouncing off one another, many avoiding destruction thanks to maneuvering thrusters and good pilots, though one unfortunate pair impacted upon a gunship.

The explosion seemed to distort and faded much quicker than it was supposed to. In fact, hyperspace seemed to be acting strange as a whole. It was still the patchy red and black, yet...something was off.

The cameras were acting up; the field of ships around them seemed to flicker every few seconds, or stretch, as if they were dropping back into normal space before snapping back. Everything was just off about it.

Not that many were paying much attention, everyone was merely trying to stay alive.

After a quick, but extremely turbulent ride, the freighter made out of the tunnel unscathed, along with the CNV _Spartacus_ , the destroyer escort, the surviving corvettes, and a handful of fighters and gunships. Somehow even the _Mirai_ had made it into the window through space. They drifted in space, engines momentarily disabled.

"Status!? Do we know where we are?" Prescott demanded.

"Sensors are back online!" Sergeant Kyle reported, and after a moment communicated the fleet's status, "We're only in the next sector over, a few systems away. The fleet reports heavy damage from the battle, but the _Cecilian Pirate_ and most of our single ships are intact. The _Mako_ reports that their torpedoes are offline, and their Hellbores have taken heavy damage. The _Mirai_ says that most of their Cobra Bays are heavily damage, there's no guarantee they can launch very quickly without repairs. Our corvettes aren't transmitting, or we aren't receiving, can't tell."

The sensors officer interrupted, "Sir, we've detected an unknown ship! It's charging weapons!" The tired technician pushed a few controls.

Onscreen static flashed, and a grainy picture appeared. The image was unsettling to most, for the ship looked like a...cuttlefish.

It was purple in color, with two distinct hull sections; an upper head-like area, which seemed to have a spinal-mounted railgun that ran down the middle of that section. Below its "eyes" was a lower body-like area where the tentacles were mounted.

They could see the telltale glow of engines on the upper area of the "head", as it began moving towards them.

"We're detecting strong AI heuristics!"

"Damn. Tactical status?"

"Torpedoes still offline! Main cannons still out!"

Technical terms failed the systems officer. "Sensors are...uh...they're just all fucked up!"

There was a flutter in the deck, and a booming echo from beyond bridge's main hatch, accompanied by a distant scream. "A circuit just blew back there, comms have died too! All we've got left is a few of our gatling lasers and only one barrel of the #1 ion bolter!"

"Sensors? Any hostile actions from the unknowns?" the colonel asked.

A loud beeping resounded throughout the bridge, as the ship shook from an impact.

"Well, that answers my question," Prescott growled again, "All batteries, open fire!"

Kyle's hands raced across the controls as she ordered, "All fighter squadrons! Link targeting computers to the _Spartacus_ and hang back as the second wave! Target vulnerable hull sections and maintenance hatches. Gunships, you're the first wave, target weapon emplacements and power conduits, punch a hole for the 2nd wave! Interceptor squads, pull back to protect the fleet."

The initial probing attacks had little effect on the enemy ship, but gathered intelligence needed for the _Spartacus_ to calculate an attack pattern.

Colonel Prescott checked his own control panels; examining initial sensor readings of the enemy.

He had been correct earlier, the cuttlefish mounted some sort of spinal railgun, though the computer was unable to calculate the yield. The dimensions of the weapon did not match up with the vessel's energy output.

Its battlescreen was apparently ancient, according to the computer. It looked to be a dual-ply type, but was very poorly designed; It was still able to resist some energy weapon fire, but lacked the ability to draw power from enemy fire.

How very strange.

He would puzzle it out later, they had a battle to win.

The enemy ship tried to cut through the fifteen small craft that raced to get to their attack points. Three ships got knocked down on the way in, but the rest managed to get a few shots off.

Close-In Weapon Systems(CIWS) were helpless in the wake of the fighter attack; several detonated from direct hits or power conduit damage. Hull sections ballooned outwards or exploded as the humans pressed the advantage.

Prescott winced, and several bridge crew members looked away, as a heavily damaged fighter flew straight into an opening

The brave pilot bought his fellows some time to make another pass, his craft having somehow hit something vulnerable. A dozen guns and running lights on the cuttlefish shuddered and died with him.

The blue bolts of energy released from the capital ships found their marks and continued to batter the hull. Though lighter laser-types and railguns had trouble with the battlescreen, it did little to halt the inevitable.

The massive vessel, nearly four times the size of the _Spartacus,_ shuddered under the fire, and internal explosions blasted the tentacles clean off.

It made one final spasm, then its engines died.

A cheer went up through the bridge, as sensors confirmed the cuttlefish ship was crippled.

"Everyone back to your posts," Colonel Prescott said, quieting down the celebrations, but barely hiding a smile, "We may have escaped Cloud, but we're not out of the woods yet."

Something abruptly echoed through the ship's speakers, the crew covering their ears in pain at the ringing.

" _You...are insignificant. You...cannot stand before the power of the Reapers...We will-_ "

The sound was cut off as abruptly as it came, several fighters sweeping around on their way back to the _Mirai_.

"Target has been confirmed terminated, _Spartacus_. Have a nice day. Green Leader out." The lead fighter reported.

Kyle looked at Prescott, and raised an eyebrow, "'Reapers?'"

He shrugged, "Probably some Clacker special ops unit. Psychological warfare most likely, with that noise. See how lightly armed it is?"

The colonel pointed at the wreckage outside, "Its armament isn't right for its size."

The sergeant nodded, "That explains how weak it was."

Prescott ordered "Let's begin repairs, and get out of here. I'm sure the Graakan will be happy to see us."

Within a few hours, the CDF fleet was ready to move.

The biggest ships in the fleet, the _Spartacus_ , the _Mirai_ , and the _Cecilian Pirate_ pushed apart from each other, with the rest of the fleet separating into groups accordingly.

The _Cecilian Pirate_ had the surviving frigate limp into its group; wasn't much, but its offensive firepower would at least give them a fighting chance. Three of the seven surviving patrol ships joined it as well, along with the least damaged fighters.

The _Mira_ i took the majority of the damaged fighters, the ship's weapon systems were still intact. A pair of patrol vessels escorted it as well.

The _Spartacus_ took almost everything else, the odds and ends, the other two patrol ships, and anything that couldn't jump.

Those ships too heavily damaged to go on were stripped for parts and scuttled.

Three orange vortexes appeared before each of the larger ships, as their engines flared in greeting.

The vortexes yawned into darkness, but weren't threatening; they seemed to almost beckon the refugees to enter hyperspace.

Every engine in the fleet charged with power, and advanced into each of their according jump points

They were headed to one of the larger Graakan colonies, the Dranek star system, where friends were believed to be waiting.

 **CDF Codex Activated**

 **Entries Downloaded**

 **Neural Interface-** Needing another edge over the Melconian Navy's massive numbers of ships, Concordiat engineers introduced an invention soon before Operation: Seed Corn. The interface is designed to allow for better reaction time and connects the crew's thought processes to their combat computer. Was commonly used aboard heavier vessels at first due to the cost, but Cloud quickly adapted it for use in nearly all of their vessels CDF Navy, as well as air and ground vehicles.

 **Nova-class Torpedoes-** It was discovered during the Quern War that military vessels needed a quick kill device upon breaking a large enemy vessel's shields. Destroyers would commonly use up all their expendable ordnance trying to take down Quern battleship shields, and found themselves helpless before a large enemy vessel. A large production line was produced, universal sizes but of varying yields as time progressed.

 **Hyperspace-** FTL drives created by the Concordiat carry ships through hyperspace, a pocket dimension that allowed for easier travel through the galaxy. The Concordiat invented two forms of FTL travel after Earth's recovery from the Great Collapse, in 2221. Hyper-light is a form of FTL that only skims hyperspace, and was discovered during initial experiments with faster-than-light travel. It was found to be slower than the second "hyper-window" type, but required much less energy and cost less.

The second method is through the use of jump points or gates, and was created after the discovery of a series of wormholes leading deep into hyperspace; that allowed for much faster and easier transit. Natural stable wormholes were commonly used at first, but jumpgates were built to stabilize unsafe hyperspace windows, or create new ones in systems lacking them. Eventually ship-portable hyperspace generators were built, but are most commonly mounted on large military starships.

Though hyper-windows are faster and make commerce easier, navigation is a major problem, and hyperspace routes did not connect to each and every colony in the Concordiat. Hyper-light is the method utilized most often, due to the low cost of the drives, and requires much less energy than hyperspace engines.

 **Gunships-** A heavier class of fighter used in support of larger attacks on enemy capital ships, They are used for breaking through attack waves, escorting the fighters, or assisting interceptor craft.

 **Clemson-class Destroyer-** A light class of destroyer constructed originally by the Concordiat Navy during the 25th century; it was used sporadically throughout history up to the eve of the Final War due to its modular and upgradable design, and inexpensive production cost. The Cloud Navy began constructing them once again during the initial stage of fleet assembly when large capital warships were unavailable; the Clemson class proved to be extremely effective in place of them during the Vovoin War and the Outreach War. Armed with a primary armament of one mass accelerator, the majority of its parts can be removed and replaced, and the entire assembly can be removed if necessary or for construction purposes; if the necessary pieces are not available. Secondary armament is two 12 centimeter casemate-mounted Hellbores, and two heavy Ion Bolt infinite repeaters. Tertiary armament is, supported by batteries of light ion-bolters, gatling laser point defense guns, and a VLS missile system. Can carry squadrons of fighters and several shuttles, depending on the mission package.

 **Piranha-class Frigate-** An obsolete frigate rushed into service during the Outreach War, and designed to be cheap and able to be constructed in large numbers; its intended role to take down enemy capital ships en mass if properly supported. Though like all human ships, they were robust, and inflicted many casualties upon the enemy, they were not designed to stand up to major fleet battles; the class took heavy losses as a result. Those that survived the war were immediately retired and decommissioned, falling into the hands of privateers, police forces, and private companies. It is lightly armed with six 5cm Hellbores mounted in two three-barrel turrets, a triple-barreled plasma torpedo launcher, and a point-defense gatling laser system. Mounts two 5D-Skyhawk shuttles for auxiliary craft.


	6. Chapter 6: Sur'Kesh

**The Annos Basin**

 **Pranas System**

Space around the mass effect relay distorted for a moment, as the rings within the center of the relay began to glow and rotate faster; within seconds they had spun up to maximum strength, and released their charge in a flash of blue light. The rings quickly began to slow down as the spacecraft they had transported across the galaxy arrived.

The _Normandy_ followed standard procedures and immediately moved clear from the jump point, clearing the way for any traffic that might follow in their wake. Luckily, nothing hit them as they quickly sped away.

Commander Shepard directed Joker to guide them towards a group of ships on the other side of the sun Pranas, the diplomatic vessels they were to meet up with.

They were still out of communications range, being several light-minutes away, but the types of ships, and whom they belonged to could be easily observed.

Shepard was standing on his raised platform overlooking the CIC, holding a cup of half-empty coffee and stifling a few yawns. He had only woken up twenty minutes ago when they had reached the relay connecting to the Annos Basin, and was still pretty groggy.

Mess Sergeant Gardner had gone missing along with many of the former Cerberus crew members, so it had been down to Vega to make the coffee.

He made great food, sure, but either someone was trying to poison the crew, or Vega was awful at making coffee.

Probably both.

Shepard hit a control on the railing, and the galaxy map disappeared to be replaced with a 3-D globular display. He twisted it around with his omni-tool, and with his thumb and index finger selected a grid section and zoomed in on it.

When the view stopped moving, the various diplomatic parties were displayed before him, each group surrounded by squares colored according to their nationality.

One group consisted of angular bird-of-prey types, obviously the turian fleet. They were neatly arranged, and judging by their formation, were at least trying to keep things calm; they were in a tight box, getting as close to each other as possible to avoid violating anyone else's space.

The second group, by far the largest, was made up of smooth and rounded fish-like designs, the Salarian Union's representatives.

Unlike the Turians, the Salarians weren't trying to be diplomatic. Their ambassadorial fleet was augmented by several battle groups of their military ships, which seemed to be trying to surround the third group. They stayed just outside weapons range, but were still just close enough to be able to quickly move in.

The third group was a bit different from the rest.

Though they were arranged in perfect order, their ship designs were not uniform like the other formations; Some were long, thick, and extremely weathered, but had the same bird-of-prey shape that the turian ships possessed.

Others, the majority of the fleet, were similar to the salarian ships, but seemed to be of an older design and were in very poor shape.

Shepard noted that there were even a few Krogan-made vessels in the fleet; merchant ships, judging by their designs, but still emblazoned with the color and flags of the Krogan Empire.

 _Must have cost a fortune to get those up and running; let alone get them out here._

However, as they slowly came into communications range, a number of the messages bombarding them drew their attention to the lead krogan ship.

"What's going on?" Shepard wondered as he ordered EDI to enhance visual of that ship.

It was a very strange vessel that came into focus. Unlike those around it, it seemed to be much less sleek, and angular, and slightly resembled a brick.

It was long and straight, about three-quarters the length of an Alliance frigate; it lacked a spinal mass accelerator cannon, where that should have been were instead three tubes.

"Likely to be a type of missile launcher." EDI reported, still short and to the point.

 _Least we know something hasn't changed,_ Shepard reflected, thinking of EDI's new "mobile platform".

The commander continued to read the analyses on the strange ship.

It was very strangely designed, using far too much surface area than was advisable with mass effect fields.

Stranger still, the energy readings were much higher than what one would expect from a ship of that size; the _Normandy_ could barely match that, and it had the most powerful frigate drive in the fleet.

 _They couldn't have gotten that from the Salarians, they wouldn't have brought it otherwise. Did the Krogan steal that thing from the Quarians? Tali was so fascinated by how we fit our engine into the Normandy, maybe they were trying to improve on the design...Wonder how they got around the surface-area problem though…_

Shepard hesitated for a moment as Tali came to mind. She hadn't sent many messages in the first few days following his imprisonment, and they had soon stopped altogether two weeks in.

He shook the thought off and continued reading, telling himself she would be fine.

The immense power readings probably meant that the GARDIAN laser arrays noticeable across the vessel were extremely powerful as well.

Shepard then wondered what ordnance those two tri-barreled turrets mounted on the top and bottom of the ship fired; he shuddered as he imagined what the Quarians could have stuffed into those things, with that drive core.

Unfortunately the ship was the reason behind the commotion.

The messages exchanged between the ships from each fleet seemed to suggest that the salarians believed that the krogan delegation had stolen the starship from either themselves, or from the quarians.

Though the Salarian Union held little respect towards the quarians, they knew that the Migrant Fleet had become highly advanced over the years; and neither they nor the salarians approved of theft of highly advanced technology.

Thus they were determined to repossess it.

Shepard facepalmed, and wondered why anyone would panic about this in the middle of a war.

He decided that they needed to be the peacekeepers in this, as they approached real-time communications range.

They heard the voice of a salarian officer midway through an order.

"...ay again. Turn the ship over to us or we will be forced to destroy it. This is your last warning."

The gruff familiar voice of a certain krogan echoed through the CIC; unrelenting and powerful.

"And this is the last time I say it! Come and get it, if you've got a quad, pyjak!"

However, before Urdnot Wrex could destabilize diplomatic relations any further, or Shepard could interfere, there was an audible click.

For a few tense moments many thought they were going to launch an attack before a completely different voice came over the channel.

"This is Captain Alita Kyle, commander of the _Mako_ to salarian fleet. This ship is still the property of its rightful government owners, and we are merely rendering assistance to an ally. We request that you pull your ships back, or we'll blow 'em out of the sky."

There was a pause as the salarians tried to process the polite threat.

"Identify yourself and your allegiance." The cool voice of the salarian officer said.

"I am Captain Kyle of the Cloud Defense Force, acting commander of the CNV _Mako_. We are providing assistance to the representatives of the Krogan Clans. Say again, pull back your ships or we will open fire. I will not ask again."

The voice was just as calm and collected as the salarian's had been.

"What is Cloud? That doesn't sound like a krogan colony…"

Shepard quickly hit a "send" key, "This is Commander Shepard of the _Normandy._ Cloud is an independent human colony that has been recognized by the Alliance. They are authorized to undertake diplomatic action, and they developed that spacecraft on their own. It is not stolen. Please pull back."

The powerful and proud voice of newly-made Primarch Victus came over the comms array as well. "The Turian Hierarchy supports the Alliance. Pull back your ships and deactivate weapons."

There was a muffled curse from the salarian end of the transmission, "Keep a better hold on your independents, Commander. They don't know what they're doing."

Nevertheless, the salarian ships stood down, and moved back a bit...But stayed just close enough to move back into weapons range if they needed to.

Shepard turned off his link to the comms array, and rubbed his eyes. _And they say humans are immature._

Specialist Traynor reported from behind him, "Commander, the salarian dalatrass and krogan clan chief are ready to come aboard."

Shepard nodded, and went down the steps, headed for the elevator.

"Have them brought to the conference room."

He turned towards the open door, and hit the control mounted to its side for the captain's cabin.

"...And hope this doesn't start another war."

 **XXXXX**

During the negotiations, Wrex demanded a cure for the genophage to help fight against the Reapers and be able to actually get into a military alliance. Despite the protests of the salarian dalatrass, the other three representatives' pressure forced her to relent, and Shepard's Spectre status allowed them to circumvent the red tape surrounding the STG facility on Sur'Kesh.

The commander noted how oddly simple it was to condense the whole thing down to one paragraph as he reentered the elevator, with Wrex right behind him.

It was a short ride up to Shepard's cabin, the most private part of the ship.

Shepard moved quickly across the room, tossing his dress uniform jacket onto the sofa.

"Nice place, Shepard. Better than mine at least." Wrex commented, as he uneasily followed through the door, and looked around at the study area, where a display of ship models sat in a right angle shape. a terrified little rodent in a cage hid as the krogan peered in.

On the same shelf, Wrex noticed six small figures, a bit bigger than his hand, standing in various poses. They each had one of six colors, with no shade repeating. They also held tools or weapons of some kind, none of which were duplicated, similarly to the color.

Wrex shrugged, guessing that they were Shepard's gods or something. Humans had a lot of religions, maybe each had more than one god?

"What are these, your meals?"

Shepard turned at the question, to see Wrex looking at his fish. With hungry eyes. "Is this related to when I had to tell that krogan there weren't any fish in the presidium?" Shepard asked as he entered a password into the display before his lockers.

He entered a few commands, and one of the lockers opened with a hiss; the door folding into the locker above it.

"...Maybe." Wrex chuckled in his own unique way, "He, he, he."

Shepard shook his head, and reached into the new hatch to withdraw a large crate, about a meter long and half a meter tall.

"So, why'd you call me up here?"

Shepard brought the crate up onto the raised area of the room, and set it down carefully. The thing looked a bit heavy.

Looking the human in the eye, Wrex could see Shepard was serious about something.

"Where the hell did you get that ship?"

Wrex growled, "We didn't steal it! I thought you understood that when-"

Shepard held up his hands, "Whoa, whoa, Wrex! I wasn't accusing you of anything! I meant, 'where did you get those friends of yours'?"

"...Oh. My mistake. Stupid salarians have got me hating a member of my krant!"

"My mistake too, should have worded that better."

"Not too big of a deal though. Offending someone is my way of exercising, the bruises are a good workout for your secondary nervous system!"

"Wrex, I told you…"

"Right, right. Gotta read up on human anatomy again."

"Please don't." Shepard was half serious, krogan were even more deadly with proper knowledge.

The old krogan grinned, and Shepard flashed back for a moment to the adventures they experienced together. Through thick and thin, Wrex had stuck by him, saving his life countless times. Now the commander was returning the favor.

"...Anyway, what did you say? Oh, ha ha! How those humans got with us?"

He roared with laughter, and noticing Shepard's trouble with the crate, picked it up with one hand and casually passed it back and forth between his hands.

"They have quads, I'll tell you that! So we're all ready to shoot down a few pyjak-shit-wannabe Reaper scouts, right? We've got one of those ancient nuclear missile silos working(ancients built those to last, you know)thanks to Clan Jorgal, and a planetary defense battery all ready to fire, when all of a sudden the damn targeting systems go haywire!"

They boarded the elevator, and Wrex was taking great pleasure in keeping Shepard's crate away.

"The silo's computer crashes(literally too) because there's a bunch of targets it's not ready for, and some stuff the tech explained that I didn't remember. The planetary defense gun's all screwed up cause it hasn't fired since before my father was lucky enough to be born, so it gets filled with warnings and errors when it gets a proximity warning because of the fleet that just appeared and it tries to fire…!"

He grinned at this part, "Both try to fire anyway,but then the silo explodes and the battery is knocked out permanently!"

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"Those humans really know their guns. Apparently they plotted the wrong course or some crap like that, and their computers went crazy too, started firing at all our weapon signatures!"

He sighed with happiness, "Nothing like an attempt on your life to start a negotiation...They apologized a lot, but it was obvious what they were really trying to do. They were trying to show their dominance without offending us!"

Shepard didn't even bother trying to correct Wrex as the elevator door opened and the krogan finally released the crate. "We don't usually do that anymore, especially not with other species...but it's nice to know someone did their research."

The commander smiled, and moved to the primary armory in the shuttle bay.

He retrieved his old and battered N7 helmet, making a mental note to locate a replacement; too bad his death mask had been left on Earth…

Next, he cracked open the crate, and withdrew the brand-new Armax Arsenal shoulder pads, a much more bulbous variant of the standard pads; and a Kassa Fabrication chest plate, slightly less armored than the regular variant, but with five disk-shaped micro capacitors to either side of the centerline.

"So what made you ally with them?" Shepard asked, as he kicked off his boots and hurried to put on his armor.

"Apparently they had some pretty old records, they were expecting some empire or something, not a hunk of rock. They called us Grakaan...haven't heard that name in years."

At the commander's blank look he explained, "That was the word from an old language that meant 'krogan', no one uses it much now. Thought it was dead."

"They were a bit...disappointed upon not seeing the great Krogan Empire, but it seems they were desperate enough to ask for our help even so. And, being the gracious hosts that we are," his tone oozed with sarcasm, "We obliged, in return for some help with a few projects."

Shepard saw Wrex leer to himself as he spoke; thoughts of whatever terrifying remnant of the Krogan Empire would arise next filling both human and krogan heads alike.

"Those humans never told us how they ended up here, but it doesn't matter. They managed to intimidate some of us, the salarians, so in my book, they're worthy of killing."

Shepard pulled on his helmet, and switched it on as he nodded, then went across the shuttle bay to grab his new modified M-15 Vindicator.

Wrex eyed it with an envious look, and upon glancing at the labels for a few of the secondary barrel's ammo, he muttered, "Nice, a real male's weapon..."

Shepard motioned for the krogan to follow into the open shuttle nearby, where Garrus and Liara waited.

 **XXXXX**

Some time later, Shepard emerged from the shuttle's cockpit into the troop bay, and saw Wrex checking his gun yet again. "This is the salarian homeworld we're headed to. They aren't used to seeing krogan here, so let's keep it simple."

Wrex didn't look up, now in professional mode as he shouldered his claymore shotgun and looked down the sights.

"We land, get the females, and leave before anyone changes their mind."

"I still don't trust a word they say…" Wrex muttered.

Shepard reached up for a handhold on the ceiling as he replied, "Let diplomacy play out, Wrex. You'll get what you want."

"These females are the best, and probably last hope for my people!" he said in an uncharacteristically quiet, and almost...anxious tone.

Liara moved into the compartment as well, clad in a new suit of armor from Rosenkov Materials. It was colored black from foot to waist, and the front of the chest, with the rest colored silver, and navy blue stripes that ran from the sides of her torso to the backs of her legs.

"We'll bring them back, Wrex. Don't worry." She reassured Wrex, in a professional and calm tone.

Wrex nodded to her, "I appreciate that, Liara," then his face grew into a massive grin from ear to ear, "Wouldn't want anyone else along for the ride."

There was the sound of an awkward throat being cleared; Garrus stood up, and raised his eyebrows expectantly as he smirked at Wrex.

Like Liara, he also wore a new suit of armor, this one from Hahne-Kedar, that was painted with a desert camouflage color scheme. To either side of his chest plate's power-absorption panel lay two downward diagonal bandolier belts, carrying concussive shot and spec-rounds(what the marines had been calling the specialized heavy barrel's ammunition), while additional clips of ammunition pockets clung to his shoulder and waist.

Several portions of the suit had scratches and nicks made by tools; he had bought it less than two days ago and had already been hard at work trying to improve it.

"I suppose I could make room for you too, Garrus," Wrex deadpanned, before laughing a hearty laugh.

"Figured you'd gone soft, sitting on that throne; forgot how to hold a gun." Garrus deadpanned in return.

The banter would have continued if not for Cortez reporting their ETA to the landing zone…

 **XXXXX**

Newly promoted Captain Alita Kyle groaned as she leaned back in her seat on the bridge of the CNV _Mako_.

These Tolun-look-alikes were really starting to irritate her.

It seemed like every time their helmsman, Lieutenant Hart made a minute orbital adjustment, the salarians were upon them; they whined about proper flight plans and all that bureaucratic stuff few species in the known universe cared about.

The salarians seemed to be the exception to that rule; every other salarian they came into contact with seemed overly concerned with rules and regulations. The aerospace-traffic controller they had been talking to might have even put the civilian shoe clerks that used to work at Celeste's spaceport to shame.

"You can't deviate from your course," the salarian's almost shrill voice suddenly sounded through the cockpit, "You need to file a flight plan, and follow it! This isn't some krogan planet, there is a lot of traffic around here that you could crash into! Do humans just not have these rules, or was Earth's orbit so cluttered you just don't feel the bumps anymore?!"

Hart mimed banging his head against his controls, "I thought I got rid of him…" he muttered.

 _Guess Wrex hadn't been exaggerating…_ Kyle thought with a small smile, and reached for her own communication control.

" _Mako_ to tower, we would appreciate it if you would take a more civil tone when speaking to a diplomatic party, but I'll let that slide in the interest of peace. However, we have not deviated from our flight course in any major way. Our orbit has only changed to avoid your satellites."

There was a wash of static as the two radically differing communication systems exchanged information, and the reply came, "Spare me the 'diplomacy' shit. You say that now, but you're just preparing to shoot at something when we aren't looking. You krogan-lovers are nothing but a bunch of warmongering fools."

The reason for the station's constant badgering suddenly became clear.

Kyle shook her head in disgust, and simply turned off the radio.

She hoped this whole thing would be over soon.

There was a sudden rapid beeping from several displays, and a moment later the _Mako_ 's basic AI, Maresal called out, "Alert! Jump signature detected in close proximity to CNV _Mako_."

There was a pause, as Kyle looked at her display in disbelief, "Update. Collision alert. Collision alert. Prepare for acceleration…"

The captain held on along with the rest of the crew as the ship heeled to port; the blasts of the emergency thrusters resounded through the hull with a sound like cannons as they evaded.

"Maresal! Status report!" Kyle called out, tapping commands onto her arm-top computer, and then activating her command chair's systems.

The simple AI in charge of the _Mako_ known as Maresal could not make an avatar for himself -the old Piranha-class lacked that capability- but he still made his presence known audibly as the Bolos did.

Basic AI such as he lacked the capabilities of a Bolo, and his individual initiative and creativity were extremely limited in comparison.

Maresal and the other computer systems were only meant to augment, not replace the ship's crew.

"Ship status: Undamaged. No casualties reported. All systems nominal." His calm voice returned some of the quiet atmosphere that had once engulfed the bridge "Alert! Unknown contacts in sector 21, 18, and 15."

"Target the unknowns; but do not fire. We don't know who they are." Captain Kyle ordered in response, and looked to starboard, where the sector 15 contact floated in space.

It looked like one of the krogan military surplus vessels, with a long central beam housing a magnetic accelerator, and two wing-like panels angling down to either side. The wings stretched back to the engine housing, and were more rectangular aft than forward.

However, unlike the krogan surplus, these were brand new. Their orange and black highlights were shining in the light from the Pranas star, and their white paint contrasted greatly with the darkness of space.

A wash of static signaled the return of the salarian aerospace traffic tower. "Tower to _Mako_ , what on Sur'Kesh are you doing?"

Before Kyle could answer, the salarian snorted, "I knew it. Prepare to be boarded, and power down your weapons. I knew we couldn't trust you."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kyle demanded, her patience quickly wearing thin "We nearly get run over by some yahoos, and your response is to arrest us? You yell at us for not filing a flight plan, then don't tell us about these guys?"

There was a pause. Not just because of the communication system problems. "...What ships? You're the only one...Wait a moment."

They heard him speaking away from the microphone, "Someone check the sensor logs again, and notify frigate squadron-29."

Maresal announced, "Analysis complete. Unknowns have activated a heat-sink stealth system. Standard Salarian Union sensors are unable to detect unknowns."

Kyle facepalmed, and said dryly, "Thank you, Maresal."

She hit the transmit control, "Tower, this is _Mako_. Are you sure you can't detect the ships that just ran us over?"

"Affirmative, but we're rechecking the logs."

"I can see three ships outside my window right now, that my AI says your sensors can't detect. He says that they've got some sort of heat-sink stealth system."

The salarian sighed, "Oh frell, frell, frell, frell, frell! I was right."

His voice sounded distant again, "Someone notify the fleet _now_!"

Light suddenly flashed in the windows that faced the other ship.

Outside, the ship had fired upon a passing communications satellite, and fired several times at a target on the planet below; the other two vessels began maneuvering downwards into the atmosphere.

Sensors reported that shuttles were leaping from the ships down towards a facility on Sur'Kesh. Straight to the one that Shepard guy had gone to.

"Go to red alert. Target the largest ship's engines, and prime the drop tubes. The diplomatic party has company coming, and they forgot the wine."

 **XXXXX**

"Oh, crap…"

"Get back!" Shepard cried, as they turned away from the elevator and rushed away.

The red light on the explosive blinked green for an instant, before the detonation shattered the elevator, and threw Garrus, Liara and Shepard forward.

Liara slid along the floor and hit the wall with a crunch, Garrus flew through the air and bounced off the corner of the wall, landing in a heap; Shepard was tossed up in the air like a ragdoll, and came back to earth with a hard thump as the kinetic barriers surrounding his armor collapsed with a fizzing sound.

Shepard suppressed a groan as he got onto all fours, and rose to his feet, shields quickly flickering to life.

"Commander Shepard, are you alright?" A salarian scientist demanded, standing near the wall and helping up Garrus.

A medic rushed over to the unmoving STG trooper who lay prone near the burning inferno once known as an elevator, checking the connection between the neck and shoulder for a pulse.

"Yeah, we're fine. Is there another way out of here?" He demanded in return.

"Other side of the lab. Emergency exit. I can open it from here."

Shepard's suit radio crackled with Mordin Solus' voice, "Shepard, Cerberus forces trying to locate female!"

There was a staccato burst of fire, "Quarantine checkpoint under attack. Hurry!"

Shepard clicked an acknowledgement button on his helmet, and rushed for the door on the opposite end of the room.

It opened with a slight squeal, it clearly hadn't been used in a while.

The three moved quickly for the ladder, the commander taking the lead as Garrus and Liara aimed their weapons at the top.

As Shepard rapidly climbed, his radio spoke again, "Shepard, it's Wrex!"

There was a deep explosion in the distance, making the lights flicker as the sound reached Wrex's transmitter, "I took the shuttle! Do whatever it takes to get those females up to the landing pad!"

There was a burst of mass accelerator fire, "I'll try to make life miserable for Cerberus!"

The transmission was cut as another impact echoed through the facility.

"This looks worse than I thought…" Garrus murmured as he reached the top of the ladder; they opened the second door to reveal a crashed gunship across the way from their balcony. No one could tell if it was STG or Cerberus.

The wind was audible even through the helmets, and the setting sun offered an irritating glare to soldiers on both sides of the valley that ran through the complex.

Gunfire blasted away endlessly, as sonic booms echoed through the hills like some terrific beast.

The path led to the side, where half a dozen STG soldiers, armed with a variety of rifles were firing at various areas across the valley of metal. some were standing on the balcony's wide rim, to get a better angle at some target or another.

"Taking enemy fire from position Telsec-4!" one of the officers called out distantly, the gunfire nearly drowning out his voice.

"Direct reinforcements to that location and confirm!"

A unique STG trooper, his armor colored in olive-drab camouflage for some reason, with white highlights, appeared out of nowhere; his tactical cloak collapsed, and his purple kinetic barrier surged to life to replace it.

 _An infiltrator..._ Shepard thought.

He fired a burst with an M-29 Incisor, rewarded with two screams, and the proximity mine that followed destroyed the rest of the targets with roaring "applause".

Before the team could move forward to lend assistance, a shadow passed overhead, and there was an sudden explosion that threw the salarians standing on the edge off the balcony, and killed most of those who hid behind cover.

The infiltrator was thrown backwards towards Shepard's team, sliding to a stop at his feet.

The trooper rolled on the ground, clutching his eye, babbling incoherently.

His armor's kinetic barriers flickered and died, fragments of the generator crunching underneath.

Shepard grabbed the infiltrator by the shoulders and started to pull him towards cover.

An additional salarian survivor saw what they were doing, and leaned out of cover to fire at those who would murder his injured comrade; as there was a bang.

His head whipped back, as his arms went limp and he collapsed against the nearby pillar, dead.

Shepard pulled the remaining injured soldier back behind cover in the shade, as Garrus and Liara lay down suppressive fire on the sniper.

A concussive shot killed the Cerberus sniper, as Shepard tried to pull away the infiltrator's three-fingered hands to treat the wound.

The trooper moaned, and blind to anything but instinct, slapped the human hand away and reached for a control on his wrist.

A critically damaged tactical cloak attempted to hide the injured infiltrator, and with a shaking hand he tried to pull himself away. He didn't get far, and just started writhing to try and resist.

The cloak, connected to the shield generator, quickly failed, barely even covering anything beyond the torso before it did.

"Someone help me!" Shepard ordered, and Garrus held the salarian down, as Liara took cover near another pillar. The trooper ceased resisting, upon feeling hands similar to his own, instead of those belonging to a perceived hostile.

Shepard succeeded in pulling the salarian's hands away from his eye; and recoiled upon seeing a long thin cylinder of metal protruding from the eye socket.

Even Garrus gulped at the sight.

It was impossible to say whether the eye was salvageable; the metal rod didn't seem to go further in than the eye socket, but it was hard to tell. Shepard inhaled with a hiss as he realized that just applying medi-gel wouldn't do it.

The commander checked to make sure the infiltrator's built-in medi-gel systems were still online, then held him down and activated his omni-blade

"Get ready, Garrus…You're probably going to need to hold him down," The thin diamond-sharp blade labeled "EMERGENCY FIELD USE" in bright orange letters deployed.A bolt cutter might have been better, but one used what one had.

Shepard, holding the rod steady to prevent further injury, carefully positioned the blade; slowly, but efficiently he cut through the section of debris just above where it entered the eye.

It came off with a snap, and with the decreased weight, the salarian seemed to relax...or he'd passed out from pain and fear.

"Sorry, this is going to hurt some. I can't take it out here." Shepard quickly pulled out a dose of medi-gel, and stuck it onto the eye,stabilizing the impaled metal so that the surgeons could remove it out without the poor bastard getting an inadvertent lobotomy. "I'll need to cover the other eye too. Sorry." He had no idea if he was being heard, but they always said in field medic training to keep talking

"Why're you doing that?" Garrus wanted to know.

"Salarians have eyes like humans or Turians. Both their eyes track together."

"So?"

"So...if you don't cover both eyes, he can't keep the injured one still." As efficiently as possible he used a bit of gauze to make a blindfold. "Okay, I think he might live…" Shepard muttered as he reached for his weapon. "For whatever that's worth."

"No brain damage as far as I can tell. Still able to try and operate after a hit like that is a good skill. And he was doing pretty well before getting blown up." Garrus commented.

"We need people like this man. I do hope he can still fight, they might win us the war." Liara added offhandedly."We should assign another one of the wounded to sit with him, in case he wakes up. I can't think of anything worse than waking up alone and blind in the middle of a battle." Garrus suggested.

They just stared at the salarian for a long moment, as explosions and gunfire echoed in the distance. There seemed to be a lull in the fighting for a moment, _Must be rearming and readying for another attack..._ Shepard mused distantly.

This was proven correct about 9.57 seconds later when the nearby roof that protected the room the balcony was attached to, collapsed in a small directed explosion.

Cerberus troopers dropped through the hole, firing jet boots with whining roars as their dark helmets gleamed in the sunlight, and they shouldered weapons while orders were given.

Shepard managed to get the Salarian infiltrator to safety with a handful of other wounded near the ladder they had climbed earlier, before joining the battle with his comrades.

He took in the situation as he rushed to the area near the balcony, and dove behind a barricade.

An engineer was setting up an automated turret, unlucky for him Garrus overloaded its systems; the enemy couldn't do much with it before the explosion took him.

The commander popped up out of cover, passing his rifle to his left hand as he did so, to summon a ball of dark energy, carefully collecting the energy as he had been taught.

He pulled his right arm back, then threw it forward again, the energy ball flying across the area as shining bullets whizzed by it.

The projectile impacted on an assault trooper squarely in the chest. He grunted in surprise as his feet went out from under him, and it seemed like gravity had failed.

Shepard used his HUD to direct Liara's singularity placement, right in the area where the trooper was drifting away from.

The biotic explosion released its energy within an instant of the two pieces connecting, killing two of the troopers outright, the third attempted to crawl away, but quickly passed out.

The still-helpless assault trooper flailed in the air as Garrus quickly moved forward, grabbed the foe's weapon with a smirk, and tossed it off the ledge.

Suddenly, there was a familiar electronic pinging and a hiss of releasing gas; the sound of a smoke grenade detonating. Six other Cerberus troopers appeared through the smoke on the other side of the room, intent on recovering their friends and eliminating the enemy.

A concussive shot blast from Garrus, another singularity from Liara, and a grenade launcher round from Shepard ensured the destruction of the unprepared enemy force.

A fresh team of STG troopers arrived after the fight was over, and offered to stay and keep an eye on the prisoners and wounded.

This offer was quickly accepted, and Shepard's team began moving again. They had wasted enough time already.


	7. Chapter 7: Sur'Kesh Part 2

_Target identified._

 _Weapons free._

One dead alien scumbag. The threat fell to the floor in a pool of his own green alien blood, moaning in pain.

A boot heel to the throat ensured the target was eliminated.

The Cerberus trooper known as Alpha 5 wiped off the blood on his boot on the Salarian's uniform, shouldered his weapon, and continued onwards.

The Krogan threat had to be eliminated. The female had to be killed.

One good shot across the valley would do it. One...Well, several hundred bullets would do it.

The trooper couldn't help but let a grin go across his face. A nuke would be the best way to kill it.

The Krogan would only be a thorn in the side of the new human empire.

"Alpha and delta squads. New orders. Approach sector 7. Unexpected resistance protecting Anti-aircraft emplacements. Recommendation: Immediate termination."

The trooper's head immediately snapped up, as his whole body rotated 90 degrees with his other squad members.

They moved quickly through the complex, opening a door into a small infirmary, empty of casualties, with a wide arena-like area beyond it. The trooper next to alpha 5's head exploded, sending the rest of the team scurrying like rabbits to cover. Alpha 5 popped up out of cover to see the shooter.

It looked to be a helmeted Turian, in cover in the middle of a bridge that spanned the arena.

 _What's a Turian Soldier doing on the Salarian homeworld? And why is he wearing bright red and orange armor?_ Alpha 5 wondered.

It didn't matter. They all had to go. _Clean it all. It all must be cleaned._

5 shook his head. He made a mental note to talk with the medic about these voices in his head again as he aimed at the Turian.

A burst of fire knocked down his shields and the trooper ducked back down again. The Turian had friends.

Alpha squad leaned out of cover as one to suppress the targets, and let the engineer do his work.

Suddenly, a concussive shot from the Turian forced their Centurion, alpha 1, to lose his shields, and another attack set him on fire.

The Centurion screamed and flailed around, his rifle clanging to the deck as he writhed. He rushed about, blind and deaf to everything but pain. The screaming abruptly stopped when another sniper rifle shot mercifully tore through alpha 1's skull.

The combat engineer had taken advantage of the distraction, and worked his way to the side, to the lab on the left of the bridge.

The alien realized he was in trouble too late, and fired wildly at the well dug-in engineer.

Alpha squad pinned him down again, however. He would not escape.

The turret spread out its legs and raised itself to full height. Soon, one more alien would be-

The turret abruptly squealed and shuddered, its servos beginning to break down as blue lightning arched around it.

The engineer was barely able to fully look at his turret before it exploded, throwing him back against a wall.

"Shit, they've got an engineer!" Alpha 5 called out, and looked about, seeing a figure in the distance on the right side of the bridge.

It was a _Human_ Engineer!

Traitorous scum.

The trooper's shields went down as an overload attack hit him, and he ducked his head down.

5 stuck his weapon out from behind cover, the tide turned as he now fired wildly without even looking to aim.

Alpha 3, the most senior member of the unit left, suddenly landed before him on his back, his helmet cracking open under the impact.

His eyes lolled lifelessly in their sockets, blood oozing from their sides.

Alpha 5 barely had time to look as he rushed away, seeking new cover; it was an Asari Vanguard, dressed in bright white armor and brandishing an M-5 Phalanx who had killed alpha 3, and now reached for alpha 4.

Her arm glowed with blue energy as she released a battle cry, and the arm blurred forward.

Instantly a dent was made in 4's chest armor, and he was knocked backwards into a pillar, moaning as he fell onto all fours.

Alpha 7 dragged 5 behind cover, but both were still mesmerized by 4's one-sided battle.

The Asari kicked him onto his side, and he cried out in pain, coughing up blood of several different shades; his implants had been damaged.

"Delta squad, where the hell are you?!" 5 yelled into his comm link, "We just lost half our team! We need reinforcements!" The survivors of alpha continued to pour on fire, knowing who they faced now. These weren't just common troopers. This was something else.

"Stay calm, alpha. What are you facing?"

" _A fucking N7 special ops team!_ Send some help, _now!_ "

"Copy that. Dispatching beta and are airdropping in a heavy mech. Delta squad is having some trouble, they'll be there ASAP."

Alpha 5 smirked at the mention of the heavy mech, his mood improved, _Now we can take 'em!_

Alpha squad circled up, defending themselves from the onslaught made by only three people, and lost two more men in the process.

There was the sound of artificial thunder in the sky, and an Atlas mech appeared. It came down with a loud whine of thrusters and a roar of wind, the light glinting off the canopy as it decelerated above the ground on the other side of the arena, to the right of the bridge from alpha's point of view and to the left flank of the Turian trooper.

A door to alpha's right flank exploded, and the troops of beta squad raced out to also flank the traitorous engineer and the asari bitch. _Only a matter of time…_

Suddenly there was a loud blast of air, like a thruster firing, coming from above, forcing all heads to swivel upwards.

Twelve glowing streaks were racing down from the clouds, contrails leading far up into the sky.

Three were headed for their position.

The Cerberus soldiers were hopeful; maybe they were a new type of reinforcements!

The N7 special ops team was fearful, knowing how bad their luck was and believing them to be more hostiles.

The streaks released jets of flame downwards, before there was a loud booming sound and pieces began to break off. It appeared that the objects were falling apart, but when all the fragments had blown away, and slowed even further, humanoid figures in blackened silver and blue armor were revealed as they crossed their arms and descended further.

The leader's armor looked like something out of some 20th century movie, _Starship Fighters_ , or something.

Kinetic barriers of some kind shimmered when a fragment from the drop pods or whatever they had been using bounced off one of the other figures. The plating looked thick and tough, covering virtually all of a thick black undersuit. The chest piece looked like it could take a blast from a grenade launcher and wouldn't even scratch the A-1 emblazoned upon it. If the plating wasn't enough, the undersuit looked to be about as tough standard Alliance armor, and was being used as a secondary!

Several types of weapons bristled from limbs and the figure's back, but didn't seem active currently.

The other two figures looked equally well armored, if not more so, though they followed the same general shape as the leader. Their smallest weapons weren't as visible as those on the leader, but several large cannons and miniature missile launchers were clearly visible.

Their faces were featureless, except for several cameras and what looked like sensors mounted where eyes and noses should be.

Were they mechs?

However, the mesmerizing effect faded quickly, when the lead destroyed their Atlas.

One second he had been hovering above the bridge where the Turian trooper had been, then, in almost slow motion he jetted to his left, jets propelling him right into the Atlas' cockpit.

The pilot screamed over the radio as with one hand, the figure shattered the already-cracked window, reached in, and pulled the man out; the pilot was unceremoniously tossed into a column, stunning him as the foe stepped down, and pushed the mech with one hand.

The Atlas fell to the ground with a crash as the observers began to move again.

The N7 team cheered and pressed their attacks with renewed vigor, as the Cerberus units returned fire.

In the back of alpha 5's mind, as he ordered the troops now under his command to concentrate their fire, he wondered what had happened to the other two-

" _Who's ready to have their ass kicked?_ " A gruff and deep voice asked loudly from behind him.

5 wasn't even able to turn before he felt a titanium foot sole drive its way into his spine, sending him flipping over his cover and face planting with so much pain.

He could taste blood in his mouth, and a deep indent in his tongue the shape of his molars as he struggled to rise.

"There's nothing I like better than making some other poor bastard die for his planet!" The same voice cried as unfamiliar gunfire echoed, and another trooper in white, black, and yellow armor landed atop alpha 5.

He struggled to raise his head, and saw two more of his friends die, blackened holes burnt into their chests.

Alpha 5's brain suddenly decided, "I want to live", and despite the modern mental conditioning, millennia-old primate instincts forced him to seek shelter within himself to fight another day.

In other words, he played dead.

 **XXXXX**

Unit UMS-1584-FTB-C of the CNV _Mako_ , or Thumbs, as his fellow soldiers called him, grabbed the rifle of the enemy soldier, and instead of yanking it out of his arms, twisted it to the left, breaking the human's wrist.

Thumbs had no need to kill this trooper now, his odor detector revealing that the foe had wet himself as he collapsed screaming to the ground.

Thumbs unfolded the power pistols hidden in his arms, and scanned the darkened room for targets. There was only one Cerberus soldier where thirty seconds ago seven had stood, and he aimed his submachine gun with a trembling hand.

Unlike his fellow Unmanned Marine Supplements(UMS's, where his nickname came from, thUMbS), Thumbs did not have a very intimidating voice; his voice module's synthetic biomechanical cells had rotted away when the case had cracked, and the replacement was from some domestic computer. The new voice wasn't that bad, it sounded fairly normal and according to sensors allies were more comfortable with it, but enemies didn't take such a neutral voice coming from a war machine very seriously.

However, vocal intimidation was not required, when Thumbs motioned, the engineer took his right hand away from his pistol, and carefully placed it on the ground; then went to his knees with hands on his head.

Thumbs stepped into the circle of light to collect the weapon, and crushed it in his hand, as he went into his memory files to bookmark his response to the situation.

One of the Cerberus fighters had shot Thumbs down during the drop and knocked out a thruster, separating him from his fireteam and sending him crashing through a ceiling into a mob of enemy soldiers.

A blast of energy from his head-mounted precision laser took out all the lighting in the room, before the killing began.

Thumbs pulled out a set of zip ties, an ancient but proven technology, and moved toward the engineer, crouching down with a creek of the metal underneath.

"Any surprises?" Thumbs asked rhetorically as he hogtied the POW; he could sense any weapon, and only found one device that could be one.

"None for you, unfortunately." The engineer spat, as the robotic marine carefully removed his omni-tool.

"Fortunately for me." Thumbs replied, and scanned the primitive device.

Curious, it had a miniature fabrication module built in. A possibility like that had never been considered by the CDF for their marine supplement units. It would have been extremely useful, being able to manufacture parts instead of relying upon a supply line.

Thumbs' communications demanded his attention, and transmitted tactical data to his navigational charts.

He rushed out to locate the Grakaan VIP.

 **XXXXX**

As the jet of flame continued to arch across the pathway, the Yahg roared at them and turned in the opposite direction, rushing away.

"Careful, there goes the next Shadow Broker!" Commander Shepard gestured with a grin as he vaulted over the barrier to their left.

Garrus joined in, "Could've sworn he was muttering 'T'Soni' the whole time…"

Liara glared at the pair of them, "Not funny!"

"Warning: Quarantine failsafes have been compromised." A computer voice interrupted as Shepard leaped over the gap to the other side of the room, away from the flames.

"We've gotta hurry up and get to the female!" Shepard cried unnecessarily.

They moved quickly up the stairs, and gunfire began to grow louder as did the hovering of a shuttle.

"Shepard, Cerberus troops at checkpoint. Attempting to kill Krogan. Need assistance!" Mordin's voice was calm, and provided the maximum amount of info in the shortest length of time; though this was the first time there was a desperate hint to his tone.

As they rounded the corner, enemy fire tore into their shields, forcing the group to take cover.

Shepard flinched as a round nicked the corner of his wall, and shouted, "Light 'em up!"

As bullets flew through the air, the commander was unable to fire back for more than a second. They were pinned. He could hear the footsteps of the troopers moving towards the pod.

Shepard suddenly had an idea. One that he had thought crazy at first when Graham had gotten the ammunition manufactured.

"Mordin!" Shepard demanded, leaning left as a larger chunk was torn out of the wall, "Mordin, is that thing NBC protected?!"

There was a pause, followed by the salarian's classic speech, "Unknown. Identifying. Air filters, yes, active. Airtight shielding? Ah, readout on right side of control board."

Finally, after several seconds of murmuring, "Affirmative. Pod is fully sealed against nuclear, biological, chemical…"

The rest of his transmission was drowned out by the deep _chunk_ sound of the commander's M-15 Vindicator's underslung launcher firing.

The Ceberus shuttle pilot had been desperately trying to get his idiot cargo to shut the damn door before some stray shot or grenade flew in to kill them all.

As usual, they ignored him, and instead of at least getting out to shoot, they just crouched in the hatch firing.

However, for once the pilot was proven right when he heard something like a package ripping open, and an awful smell filtered into the cockpit.

"What the hell…?"

His eyes suddenly began to burn, and he started to wheeze. On his next exhale he hacked and coughed until there wasn't anything left in his lungs.

"Help…" He squeaked in between breaths, and looked around to see the troopers aft in similar states of pain as they collapsed in the cloud of white mist around them. One man yanked off his helmet to vomit, and another was babbling that he couldn't see.

The pilot's instincts kicked in, even as the tear gas began to blur his vision, and he activated the automatic control to slam the doors shut, and turned on the air filters.

As more Cerberus troopers collapsed, and the shuttle drunkenly whizzed away, headed for the ground, Shepard motioned Garrus and Liara forward.

They had a neutralizer for this particular tear gas agent, but unlike their foes had activated their air filtration systems, and there was no need for it.

The Cerberus troopers did possess NBC equipment, but rarely activated the systems, thus they were completely unprepared for the gas until it was too late.

Mordin didn't even comment when he radioed, "Quickly, Shepard. Technician dead. Clear us through the checkpoint!"

The commander moved quickly towards the control panel, and asked as he typed, "Are you okay?"

"Containment shield is holding. Will try to repair, if necessary. Can't speak for Krogan health, however."

The powerful female krogan looked over, "I'm fine, commander."

"Females kept secret. Possibly a mole in STG. Could be indoctrinated," Mordin mused as he typed, "If no Krogan alliance with Turians, Reapers left unchallenged."

Shepard heard the sound of a gunshot, and looked to see Liara kicking away the smoking remains of a rifle from a Cerberus trooper on the ground, who put up his hands.

"We'll do more than challenge them." He replied, and input the final code that sent the containment pod upwards.

"Shepard, meet us at next checkpoint," Mordin pointed upwards, "Cerberus likely to target-"

There was a loud impact upon the pod, sending Mordin sprawling to the ground.

Mordin felt for his pistol. Missing.

He scrambled to locate it, found under piece of debris.

Hostiles to his right. In shuttle. Shield holding for the moment.

Shepard and team unable to respond, pinned down.

He picked himself up off the ground, and began typing again, as he shouted to his friends, "Hurry, next checkpoint!"

A Cerberus trooper reported loudly, "Copy all squads. I have the Krogan in sight!"

Screams. _No more gunfire?_

Mordin turned to see a figure standing on the roof of the dropship.

Human. Latin characters visible on torso.

Enhanced strength, based on ease with which Cerberus personnel pulled out and thrown off.

Wait. No visor. Cameras instead. Not just powered armor. Not cyborg, head too small to contain brain, torso unable to hold power source and major internal organs together.

Motions too mechanical. Eliminates most possibilities.

Could it be…-He inhaled sharply- an operational mechanical soldier?

Shepard's jaw dropped as he saw the figure, who in the blink of an eye, had just dragged several Cerberus troopers out of their shuttle, replaced them with explosives, and then leaped across the gap.

With a deep sound mixed with the explosion the silver and blue soldier landed upon the closed hatch the pod had once moved through.

The soldier scanned the area, the cameras mounted upon its face fixing upon Liara, Shepard, and Garrus, as they aimed their weapons at the unknown.

The head swiveled toward Shepard, in what looked like a double take.

Mechanically, the soldier spoke, as Shepard suddenly noticed the unique patterning of the silver and blue armor, and the faded identification on the shoulders.

"Cloud Defense Force Unmanned Marine Supplement, Unit 1584-C, Fireteam Bravo, assigned to the CNV _Mako_ , reporting as ordered, Commander Shepard. Ready to provide assistance. I am currently unable to stand on ceremony, physically at least, for fear of enemy snipers."

The squad was struck silent. "I am also called 'Thumbs'. Sir."

Shepard replied slowly, as his brain took time to process the robot standing before him, "Thank you...Thumbs…Did Captain Kyle dispatch your team?"

Thumbs nodded, "Affirmative. Orders are to assist your team in protecting the VIP, and generally make life hell for Cerberus."

The team considered the robot's speech unusual, with its usage of personal pronouns, and human speech patterns.

Shepard thought tactically, ignoring the many other questions he had as he asked, "Do you know where the rest of your fireteam is?"

"Negative. Orders dictate immediate mobilization to the Grakaan VIP's position, but it appears they got held up in traffic."

Commander Shepard looked the robot up and down. Heavily armed and bearing the colors of General Graham.

"Shepard, orders?" Garrus asked nervously, finger on the trigger.

"Welcome aboard, Thumbs. Can you give us an idea of your capabilities?" Shepard asked abruptly.

The robot called Thumbs replied, "I am fully equipped with micro-missile batteries, a small artillery weapon, a tactical cyberwarfare suite, and enough small arms to level a building. My AI is also able to adapt to any kind of battlefield situation, and over my years of service I have apparently developed some kind of a personality." The deadpan snarker kind apparently.

"I like him." Garrus immediately said.

"The firepower would be beneficial." Liara added.

Shepard drew a "turn around" sign for Thumbs, and moved past towards the hole in the wall, that lead out onto a plant-filled balcony.

A blue and white shuttle whizzed by suddenly, pursued by a Cerberus gunship, followed by Wrex's gruff commands, " Shepard, get cracking!"

As they passed around the corner ahead, he added, "I'll try to draw some of their fire!"

A shot cracked through the air, and the pressure behind Shepard seemed to drop for a second, as a projectile flew into the shooter in the blink of an eye, detonating the Centurion's helmet in a bloody mess.

Thumbs fired two more micro-missiles at a passing dropship, sending it down in flames as Garrus and Liara fired at the troops ahead on the balcony.

Shepard targeted an enemy soldier, and with a battle cry, blue energy began to glow around him and he raced forward at incredible speed.

He glided across the corner, and slammed into a mass of enemy soldiers.

The Biotic Charge nearly killed the Cerberus trooper, and sent the other Centurion flying into a wall.

He fired an assault rifle burst into an engineer, who fell and knocked the weapon from his hands.

Undeterred, Shepard spun about to place two right between the eyes of another soldier with his sidearm.

"Shepard, last attack compromised security systems! Attempting to compensate!" Mordin reported.

Shepard slammed his knee between the legs of the last Centurion, "Hang on, we're trying to get to you, Mordin!" He pistol-whipped the already-humiliated foe.

A pair of blue energy beams cut into the last pair of troopers, who fell without screams; Thumbs jogged up, folding his power guns back into his armor.

"Commander Shepard, despite the humor displayed in humiliating the Cerberus officer, I suggest you use your sidearm. A shot to each kneecap will prevent them from doing anything, and is useful for an interrogation incentive."

Shepard shrugged self-consciously, "Yeah, I know. I just thought it looked cool…Let's move out."

"Why shoot them in the kneecaps? That's like shooting someone in the flesh of their leg, it'll hurt like hell, but they'll still be mobile." Garrus asked as they moved.

"Humans, Asari, and several other species do not possess Turian exoskeletons, Garrus." Liara explained, "If the kneecap is severely injured, it is physically impossible for them to get very far, they won't be able to stand up. I thought you would have known that!"

"You're right, I should have. And here I thought I knew all the human weak spots. That should have been obvious! I can be so oblivious sometimes." Garrus chuckled. "Would have been useful back on Omega. No wonder all the human mercs looked like they were going to piss themselves whenever I pointed my gun downwards."

They opened another door, and up another set of stairs, as rays of light filtered into the stairway through a hole in the wall at the top.

Before the hole stood a familiar Salarian, not Mordin, someone else.

He had a Cerberus trooper in a headlock, and with a loud snap, killed him instantly.

It was Captain- Major Kirrahe, the STG officer they had saved back in 2183 on Virmire. He held a deep respect for the crew, and Shepard specifically.

He took cover behind the wall on the right as gunfire hit the surface opposite.

They moved to join him, Thumbs clanking along behind them as Kirrahe ordered, "Commander, stay back! Hostiles just down that hall!"

"Is there an easier way around?"

Kirrahe merely smiled, and cocked his unfamiliar weapon, ejecting a spent thermal clip, "You could say that."

Without warning he turned and strode across the hallway, firing as he went.

The Cerberus troopers fired wildly at the unexpected resistance, and were surprised by all the glowing devices landing about.

One stuck to the middle trooper, who grabbed at it, trying to pull it off, but only succeeding in getting the other hand stuck.

His friend reached over to try and help just as the rounds detonated, killing every trooper in the corridor with fire and shockwaves.

"How do I not have one of those?" Garrus asked jealously.

Kirrahe examined the weapon, clearly he had not encountered it that long ago either.

An engineer rushed out to place a turret, and Kirrahe waved to the team, "Go, commander! I'll cover you!"

They heard the engineer tell someone over the radio, "Orion squad, your orders are to hold position and block access to the next checkpoint." His turret unfolded as he spoke.

"Looks like Cerberus got some upgrades!" Garrus called out as they headed for cover, and the turret began to unload on them.

Liara began to say "Taking them head-on may not be the best-"

The turret suddenly stopped firing. They could hear the combat engineer growl in frustration and punch the device as the gunfire died down.

It suddenly swiveled around and tore his head off with a burst of point-blank range fire.

As it killed another pair of troopers, Thumbs came around the corner, firing what looked like an automated grenade launcher with one arm and an old-style mass accelerator minigun with the other.

"Cyberwarfare, motherfuckers. RTFM." He still spoke in a deadpan tone.

Shepard took advantage of the distraction to send a biotic shockwave that shook several foes out of cover, and each was quickly eliminated.

"I think we got them all…" Liara said cautiously.

"To the next checkpoint. I'm sure Cerberus isn't done." Garrus determined.

Innocently, as Shepard passed a destroyed storage rack, he reached out and grabbed some valuable looking device. Everyone pretended not to notice his looting.

They found the next door to have an authentication system built in. The slow sensor took what felt like forever to confirm his identity.

As they entered the short corridor, Garrus commented, "Mordin was right. Cerberus must have been tipped off. They got here too fast."

"Every war has its traitors…" Liara said solemnly.

They retrieved a pile of thermal clips, and opened the next door.

The team heard a filtered voice say, "Get the hell off him!" as bullets chased a fast-moving Varren across the indoor park, that was dragging a struggling Cerberus trooper for a meal.

Before the rounds could even touch the Varren, its teeth sank into the trooper's neck. He didn't even scream.

The Varren was dead within seconds. The Cerberus troopers were still slightly human, apparently.

"There they are!" One trooper cried when they finally noticed Shepard's unit, "Careful! We've got live Varren down here!"

There were more troopers than usual in this room. "Looks like they mean business!" Garrus noted over the gunfire.

"More up top!" Liara pointed out.

"Find cover!" Shepard ordered, as incendiary rounds set a Centurion on fire.

Thumbs called out, "Stairs located! I'll try to get the drop on them!"

Despite the situation, Shepard couldn't help but snicker as the ED-209 impersonator clanked loudly up the stairs.

"I'm going up top to support him!" Liara called out, and followed Thumbs.

There was a burst of comm chatter from the Cerberus troops. Shepard still didn't know why they continued to use Alliance frequencies.

"This is Orion squad. We've trapped the female at checkpoint Two. We-Urk!" There was a crunching sound on the other end.

 **XXXXX**

The Centurion's neck snapped as Sergeant Jack Haley twisted; the engineer to the right of his victim uttered a single gag as Specialist Dobbs' garrote squeezed the foe's throat shut, and the power armor's strength overcame the strength of the skin and bone.

Both Cerberus goons, one headless, went over the edge that the CDF infantry clung to with magnetic boots; as three Unmanned Marine Supplements killed three enemy troops apiece before they knew what was happening.

A final enemy, a rare female Centurion, had been brandishing her rifle at the Salarian in the pod, who had put up his hands; she realized what was happening just as the five enemy soldiers closed in.

It wasn't one of the Cloud soldiers that killed her, her head exploding outwards towards them.

The Centurion fell to her knees to reveal the Salarian placing his weapon back on his belt. His merciless approach matched the description. This was Mordin Solus.

"Friends of Clan Urdnot?" He asked.

Haley moved forward and flipped up his visor, "That's right. We're here to make sure the Grakaan get the cure they need."

The female Grakaan abruptly joined the conversation, her tone icy and compelling, and nearly made Dobbs jump back, "Where did you hear that name?"

"That is your species' name, right?" Haley asked, without fear.

She didn't respond for a moment. It was odd to find a human who didn't fear the Krogan, "Yes. It is. One that hasn't been used in a very long time."

"Can discuss mysteries later," Mordin interrupted, "Reroute emergency power and pass us through the checkpoint."

"Dobbs?"

"Sir!"

Once the power was reestablished, Haley hit a few controls, and before long the pod was ready to pass through the checkpoint.

"Sarge, unknown contacts approaching!" One of the UMS's suddenly reported.

There was the hissing sound of a door opening, and weapons were aimed down the hallway.

Four figures exited, one clearly human, one human **oid** , and one who looked to be a descendant of an avian species. Asari and Turian most likely.

The fourth was more familiar, however.

"Thumbs!" Dobbs yelled, upon spotting the missing member of his fireteam.

The UMS following the unknowns perked his head up, and cried in reply, "Hey, Dobbs! Where the hell have you been?"

The CDF squad lowered their weapons as the apparently friendly unit approached.

"Where the hell have we been? Where have you been?" Dobbs countered, "We landed at the drop zone just fine! I looked away and you were gone!"

Thumbs shrugged, "You try landing right when you get shot out of the sky. I landed in a mass of Cerberus troops, had to kill them all, and my comms have been shot all the hell, so I wasn't able to talk directly to anybody. Lucky Commander Shepard here was able to help."

Sergeant Haley pulled up his mission briefing in his HUD as the commander nodded, "Yep, that's him. From what the Krogan tell us, you're a badass."

Haley grinned, "That's just about all they told us actually."

Shepard looked the CDF marine up and down. He wore incredibly heavy armor, quite stereotypical for science fiction stories actually, but looked like it could tear apart a Grizzly tank without even trying.

The clear material(Shepard couldn't even tell what it was made of) that covered the man's face when the visor was flipped up allowed for a clear view of the marine.

It was clear he had been through the same experience that General Graham had been, the marine's face hung off his bones, and dark old scars that ran from his chin out of sight.

His right eye seemed normal, but the left tracked mechanically when it moved with the other with the slightest hint of a hesitation, and there were surgical scars around the socket; some pink and glistening, while others were white and faded. He must have been one of the POWs who had been "harvested", as Graham had called it.

Shepard smiled back at the man's comment, "That sounds about right. I'm a Spectre with the Systems Alliance Navy, and this type of devastation is my workplace apparently."

" I'm Sergeant Haley, Cloud Defense Force, 14th Infantry, that's Private Dobbs, and the UMS's are our support. And you two?" Haley gestured politely to Shepard's friends.

"Garrus Vakarian, Turian Hierarchy."

"Liara T'Soni, Asari Republic."

"The Krogan didn't tell us much about many of the other species around here. Well, friends of Earth are friends of mine."

The servos behind him whirring signaled the pod rising, "Next checkpoint!" said Mordin.

"How many more are there?" Shepard asked.

"Just the landing area. Hopefully Urdnot Wrex still waiting."

The female krogan snorted, "Wrex can't keep his hands off a fertile female. He'll be there."

"I'll see you up top." Shepard reassured her as the pod disappeared into the ceiling.

There was a deep booming of artillery, and the commander whirled around to see Thumbs deactivating his shoulder-mounted recoilless rifle.

A nearby door was now a smoldering hole, with bits and pieces of yellow and white armor littered about.

"Hostiles eliminated."

"You know that was the next door up, right?"

"Well now we don't have to go through tedious hacking, now do we?"

"Touhe'."

Shepard's team moved through the destroyed door, while the other two fireteams used jump jets to move from a few other angles.

"We're almost back up top." Liara noted.

As Shepard mounted the top of the ladder, he heard Mordin over the radio, "Shepard! They found us! Under heavy attack!"

Instead of finding the pod completely undefended, however, he saw three figures, what looked like a human engineer, an Asari Vanguard (judging by the biotic shockwave she released), and a Turian Soldier.

They were wreaking havoc upon the Cerberus troops, but the Turian and the human were down to their sidearms, and the vanguard was only using biotic attacks

Cerberus reinforcements were arriving as well, judging by the smoke grenades detonated, and would soon be overwhelmed.

Cerberus wouldn't be able to have that luck however.

Six human and robotic power armor soldiers leapt over the edge of the balconies, as Shepard's team began to fire into the completely surprised Cerberus ranks.

They had no chance.

The Atlas' arms went limp with a moan of screeching metal as Dobbs yanked out the power core, and leapt off as its knees went out.

The crash shook the whole area, not even unnerving the team as they mopped up the resisting survivors, and captured those who didn't.

The battle with the infantry had been extremely one sided, lasting only several seconds, and the Atlas had fared no better.

"Shepard, I think you did it. Looks clear from here. Coming in now."

The shuttle eased in carefully and slowly, like a child unwilling to wreck their parent's car, so unlike Wrex.

Finally, when the satisfying "thump" of the shuttle hitting the ground came, Wrex relinquished the controls to a somehow calm Cortez with a grunt, and turned about, exiting the craft in typical Krogan fashion; tilting it slightly in the direction of his body weight as he hopped the short distance to the ground.

He held out his shotgun and made an up and down motion with his hand, pumping the action.

Wrex and Shepard closed the distance between each other and shook one another's hands, "You had me worried there for a minute," Wrex said as they turned towards the pod.

"Let's make this quick." Shepard said, eager to get off the planet.

The shimmering blue field faded to let the female Krogan out. Mordin extended his hand and smiled pleasantly- Before he was ruthlessly "suggested" to move aside by Wrex's forearm and death glare.

Wrex did the same motion, with possibly an even wider grin, "Let's get you out of there."

She looked at him as though he were an insect, then began to walk down out of the pod.

The female Krogan barely seemed grateful, walking right past Wrex's arm, and gave a glare that could have rivaled a thermonuclear weapon in power at Wrex's puzzled expression.

"There they are!" Three apparently suicidal Cerberus soldiers suddenly dropped in with their rocket boots, brandishing the usual submachine guns.

The female calmly looked from them, then back to Wrex, before wrenching his Claymore shotgun out of his hands and blasting the foes away in the blink of an eye.

She looked back at Wrex with a "Satisfied?" eyebrow raise, then shoved the weapon back into his hands, pushing the Urdnot leader back several meters.

"I can handle myself, Wrex." She said as she boarded the shuttle.

Wrex huffed, "Women." And followed her into the shuttle.

Shepard hesitated before entering the shuttle, then turned and moved back to the battered and beaten N7 team, "We appreciate the assist, you three. Are any of you wounded?"

The human engineer saluted, and replied, "Negative, sir. Nothing medi-gel won't cure. Thanks for the rescue, though. Our casualties could have been...worse…"

He stuttered, and went silent.

Shepard winced; losing people could be tough.

He asked, "Who'd you lose?"

The Turian grimaced and flexed his mandibles, "A Salarian infiltrator, Specialist Caezor."

The Asari added, "He said something about getting reinforcements, then he went missing. Cerberus must have gotten him."

The human pulled off his helmet, blood from his glove staining his blond hair; he put his hand to his mouth as the impact hit him, "Jesus, I _told_ him not to go off alone...I _told_ him…"

He looked on the verge of tears, as the turian came up, put his arm around him and gave the engineer's shoulder a squeeze.

Battlefield relationships were funny that way, especially with special ops. One didn't have to be afraid to show affection for a friend.

Shepard suddenly spoke, "Guys, I have good news for you. Caezor's alive."

At that their heads, once bowed, quickly perked up, and the Asari asked, "What? Where? How?"

"He was near our position when we were climbing up here. He was sniping when ordnance detonated and killed most of the guys around him. He took some shrapnel in the eye, so he wasn't in any state to respond."

At the gasps, Shepard quickly added, "It damaged the eye, but we got most of it out before it could do too much damage and his brain's fine. He's injured, but we think he'll live."

The entire team looked to be in tears of joy, now. The commander left them alone, and boarded the shuttle.

 **XXXXX**

 _ **Codex Updated**_

 **Unmanned Marine Supplements** \- Throughout several periods in Concordiat history, human personnel could cost too much to use, or there were too few people to properly man military posts. Heavy automation was used to great effect in armored fighting vehicles, naval vessels, and similar positions to free up more personnel for other roles, the Unmanned Marine Supplements being one example of this. Used to support marine units on light naval vessels, these robots possess enough weapons to outshoot a pre-space infantry platoon.

They are equipped with several energy weapon systems, gatling-style railguns, a shoulder-mounted recoilless anti-materiel rifle capable of direct and indirect fire, and a precision guided micro-missile launcher. Their AI, while less advanced than that of their more powerful counterparts such as Bolos, are geared towards creation of arguably more human personalities with less emphasis on formality; for the purpose of creating empathy and reliance upon one between them and their human counterparts. Due to the initial limited population during Cloud's initial colonization, these units were used to great effect in the CDF Navy.


	8. Chapter 8: Taetrus

**Apien Crest**

 **Mactare System**

The signal was transmitted through the relay faster than the speed of light, faster than the ship moving within- the war machine was coming.

The Reapers guarding the relay immediately retreated, calculating trajectories that would carry them away from their device and towards the organic colony world.

They had to get away before the Bolo came.

As they ran, the relay released its cargo; half a dozen converted carriers, escorted by three times as many frigates into normal space. twenty-four cruisers followed, along with a heavy troop transport, and a pair of brand-new light carriers.

Most of the hangars on the carriers were of the same type as any other; large chambers with kinetic barriers keeping in the atmosphere, that allowed the fighters to lift off and begin CAP operations.

Those hangars furthest out on the light carriers, and all of the hangars on several conversions however, had been replaced.

Instead of the large holding compartments, these hangars formed grids of small hatches, seven per row.

Silently, several squadrons were released around the drifting fleet from the standard hangars, taking up defensive positions.

They soared gracefully but purposefully across the great void, destroying Reaper early-warning probes. They never strayed too far from the protective embrace of their motherships, and fought off harrying attacks by enemy fighters like bees protecting their queen.

Simultaneously, as the fighters flew like those in the commercials, purpose-made and makeshift carriers alike began to rotate, and the new hatches opened.

A number of new fighters were arrayed inside, their noses pointed forward, and were unlike anything the Hierarchy had developed in years.

The maneuvering thrusters were arrayed on small pods, bolted to the ends of four wings that reached out from the center, where the weapons, power systems, and cockpit were located. The design was purely for space, no aerodynamics of any kind.

As the carriers rotated, the fighter mounts pivoted downwards, pointing them out towards space; one by one they were released by centrifugal force alone, each hangar holding twice the number of normal fighters.

Just as gracefully as their contemporary fellows, the Starfuries took up defensive positions around their respective queens.

Several of the cruisers that they defended were as unusual as the Starfury.

They looked like typical Turian heavy cruisers for the most part, but the barrel of the mass accelerator had been extended a bit further, both fore and aft. It also had several beams and plates welded all over the place as reinforcement, most not even painted.

Along the extended aft section were still more Starfury bays replacing the contemporary ones of the past.

What led the battlegroup was even stranger than the new additions. A Turian Assault Transport, with Bolo HCT of the Line, Mark. XXXIII, last of the 6th Mobile Starstrike Regiment held in the clamps.

Deep within its hull, a human and a Turian shared the command center.

"Hopefully that battlecruiser will hold together." General Partinax snorted derisively at the display, then took another drink from his canteen.

"Hector thinks it will," General Graham replied, "By his calculations it should at least hold together for three shots!"

The general glanced puzzledly at the human, who stood near the dome display nursing a drink of his own as he laughed at his own joke.

"But seriously, that is one damn good ship for being modified like that, without our help."

Partinax replied, "It helps to be prepared. We knew the strategic value of battlecruisers when they were used during the Krogan Rebellions, but it became too expensive to keep them in active service. So some of our older heavy cruisers have modular construction, just in case."

Graham grunted appreciatively as he took a bite out of his strange square wheat confection.

The Bolo was once again attached to an assault transport, its guns rotating towards the token Reaper force that flew out to face them. They opened like flowers to futilely try and damage the transport.

"Weapons free, Hector."

Partinax winced as the Bolo shuddered, firing one of its massive guns. Just like that, a destroyer disappeared from the observer seat's tactical display.

Graham seemed uninterested, finishing off his drink as the second Reaper was killed by the debris of the first.

"Hungry?" The human asked, pulling out a package of food, with "Dextro-Amino Acids" clearly labeled across the top.

Partinax raised his eyebrows in surprise, yet careful to remain in control, "In the middle of a battle?"

"These things are light-minutes apart, and neither of us are admirals. You don't have to worry about coordinating the troops until we get into orbit, and you insisted upon observing the battle from Hector's command deck. So please, accept my hospitality."

Wordlessly the Turian accepted, and before he could even ask, a tray popped out of the wall with Turian cutlery.

Hesitantly, he opened the package. It contained a Varren steak! Interesting, usually humans couldn't get very good food for visiting Turians.

 _Is this how his people always fight?_ He began to wonder, considering all the personal amenities on the command deck, _Sitting comfortably in their giant tanks while hell rages around them? It hardly seems appropriate._

There was no answer to Partinax's musings; only a deep "chunk" from the hull signaling the release of a missile, as it soared out to seek a distant target.

"General Graham, enemy fighters inbound." The AI called Hector reported, several handfuls of red indicators appearing on the tactical display.

"Don't use any expendables on them. Energy weapons only. Let the new fighters handle them."

The Turian general watched as the score of Starfuries, along with the older standard fighter craft, assaulted the Reaper fighters that had survived their mothership's destruction.

The Starfuries, despite the utilization of mass effect fields in standard hierarchy fighters, were still far more maneuverable in space than their normal counterparts simply due to their geometric shapes. They annihilated enemies left and right, lazily running rings around them as they went.

Some enemy fighters however, decided to make a run for Hector's assault transport, attempting to at least damage it to prevent the war machine from advancing.

They would have no such luck. Roughly a dozen were cut out of the sky by laser clusters, before the lasers slowly stopped firing. Closer and closer the enemy fighters came.

Alarmed, Partinax looked over at the contemporary general, eating his own meal. He looked merely bored, but noticed Partinax's look.

"Come on, Hector, stop playing with them."

"If you insist." The AI replied with an electronic chuckle.

The Reaper fighters, instead of firing on the thruster units or magnetic clamps, simply soared right by the transport.

Partinax quickly glanced at the observer tactical display for the according position, but only found green indicators... _Green? Red is a hostile, blue is friendly, what's green?_

Graham chuckled as if reading the Turian's thoughts, "Cyberwarfare. Those Reaper drones had no idea who they were playing with."

The Reaper fighters came around for another pass, but instead of attacking, they slowed down to come alongside the transport. Several did barrel rolls, loop-the-loops, a few waggled their wings at approaching Turian fighters, and generally acted as silly as possible.

"I've never seen anyone hack those things before," Partinax said with a laugh, "Spirits, not even the Salarians could do that. How could you have done so?"

Hector's precise and baritone voice, unfiltered by external speakers, replied "My cyberwarfare suites are extremely capable at hacking into many enemy systems, General Partinax," The Turian was slightly unsettled at the ease with which the human-sounding voice was able to so easily pronounce his name, "The process is difficult to explain, and would take too much time to do so. I respectfully request that in the future you refrain from asking this type of question in the middle of a battlefield."

Graham grinned at the flustered Turian, "Don't mind him. He's done that to me a couple of times. He reviewed my personnel records, said I wasn't qualified to give him orders, and pretty much told me to mind my own damn business. Managed to convince him, eventually." He patted the arm of his seat affectionately.

"I still don't think you're qualified to give orders in space combat, general. Nor are the pilots of this vessel. Calculating time to hack into guidance systems..." Hector spoke, deadpan.

"Ha ha, Hector. You're gonna scare all our new friends away." Partinax realized his fists had involuntarily clenched after the AI's comment, and slowly uncurled them.

After a moment, it occurred to Partinax that he should try and get some information. He asked "So, why did your people build this...Bolo? What enemy were you intending to fight? And why Thirty-three variants? And _AI_?"

The last question was asked in a mild hiss, and Graham felt a twinge of anger.

He still didn't understand their suspicion. AI were their friends! The Geth it seemed had only fought out of self defense, and nearly...wiped out an entire species. The Reapers probably started out as some self-replicating...sentient war machine…

His anger faded.

 _Okay, so maybe they do have some cause to be suspicious..._

Graham took a breath, and replied "We started building them centuries ago, the Earth year 2000. They were just automated M1 Abrams. After the Great Collapse, because of their usefulness in saving people during that conflict, and their destructive ability, we started using them in our standard military. Eventually they evolved to be planetary defense units, once the Hellbores were created, and over the centuries we used them to protect ourselves from every creature that tried to wipe us out.

"We used AI to further automate the things and make them the most effective fighting force we had. Thirty-three variants? 'Cause they've come a long way from those little Abrams they once were."

Partinax nodded approvingly, "Good idea, actually. Protecting colonies without an expensive crew and warship, but with a single one-person super-heavy tank. The AI could be more controlled, though…"

Seeing Graham's look, he quickly changed the subject, "We looked into planetary defense batteries, but they take a while to install, are very vulnerable, and expensive. It would be great just to have a Bolo or two with a _fraction_ of the power yours has..."

Graham's smile returned, "Well, I don't want to get your hopes up, but a few factories may have been repurposed to make, I don't know, some brand new super-heavy tanks…And I could make sure that their first deliveries may or may not be to a certain Turian general..."

Partinax slumped back in his seat, "Why do I feel lightheaded all of a sudden?"

For several hours afterwards, they talked and laughed, the ice finally thawing. Hellbores continued to pound as the Reapers fell back, unwilling to take the casualties they were receiving.

 _My number 4 and 6 secondary Hellbores destroy a Sovereign-class Reaper, the last one still in orbit, as I direct the assault transport to take up position above the Turian colony._

 _My commandeered fighters mop up the surviving enemy single craft. The Oculus-type fighter is actually an excellent design, when used properly. It's unfortunate that the Reapers waste them on wave-attacks, similar to the way infantry were employed by the pre-spaceflight 20th century Soviet Union or Imperial Japanese Army during the Second World War. They could have minimized casualties, and still had experienced troops left if wave-tactics had been rejected in favor of proper maneuvers._

 _I make a note to bring some of the Oculus-type onboard for study. Risk of indoctrination is potentially problematic, unfortunately. My sensors have been unable to detect electromagnetic fields reported from Reaper artifacts, though I remain cautious._

 _The understrength Turian 3rd Carrier Task Force is hanging back on my instructions, unwilling to risk heavy casualties. They did not protest or second-guess my judgement, for once._

 _Unfortunate that Turian High Command could not send a larger or at least a full strength unit. However, the defense of what colonies they still have does take priority, I will admit._

 _Retaking this colony should be relatively easy, but my suspicions continue to be aroused. In all previous engagements, the Reapers engaged with what they deemed to be a fair amount of force. However, few have actually attempted to damage my hull, or the maneuvering thrusters of this assault transport._

 _They seem to be withdrawing to the other side of the system, and Reaper forces are of much lower concentration than they had been during the last Turian reconnaissance flights._

 _Unusual, but evidence only points to one conclusion. They are reconsidering their strategy, and don't want to risk their forces receiving further damage._

 _Interesting. They normally do not care for the casualties they take, unless they are extremely high._

 _They are afraid of me._

 _Logically, they cannot experience the emotion, they merely are being self-preservent. However, for lack of a better term, they fear me, as proven by executing a tactical withdrawal out of fear that I might destroy them._

 _Let them fear me. My only concern is for the destruction of the Enemy, and preservation of my allies._

" _General Partinax, General Graham. Would you like to send a signal to those trapped on the planet below? It could provide a great morale boost, and serve to send the Reapers into further disarray."_

" _Oh sure, Hector. But I'll let Partinax have the honors." Graham replies, and I activate all communication arrays._

" _This is General Partinax of the Turian Hierarchy Army. People of Taetrus, homeworld has not abandoned you, I have not abandoned you. We have returned, with allies. Look to the sky, and see what our human friends can do. Fight back, and we will retake Taetrus with your help within hours."_

 _Interesting speech. Short, yet rousing._

 _I am now tracking several large Reaper vessels, that have suddenly taken off from the opposite side of the planet, with significant numbers of friendly personnel aboard._

 _I instruct the fleet to approach and bombard those Reapers that cannot take off, while I maneuver towards the other side of the planet._

 _The Reapers cannot be allowed to receive more soldiers. According to sensor data, many have not been inside the transports long enough to be indoctrinated; they were rushed aboard when we arrived in-system, and have not gone through the proper preparation._

 _Hopefully, something can be done for those who have been aboard too long. According to MRI scans, those who still are able to be reasoned with are theoretically savable. Nanite surgery might be able to repair the damage to their brains, but I am unsure. Developing medical treatments are jobs for doctors, despite my immense knowledge._

 _My 200cm Hellbores are out of the question, they would cause too much damage to the enemy hulls, and potentially force the captives out into space._

 _My 20cm Hellbores could cause too much damage as well. I must reduce their power, and aim carefully._

 _I also ready several VLS silos. Several missiles equipped with Multiple Independently targetable Vehicle warheads should be satisfactory to eliminate engines._

 **XXXXX**

The mass of Turians in the belly of the Reaper huddled together as the monster creaked and shuddered under the strain of speed.

Fear was virtually all that kept the group in check, despite their superior numbers over the guarding marauders, who looked upon them with terrifying, unblinking eyes. They carried hierarchy firearms, and several still wore tattered uniforms signifying that had been sailors or marines, furthering the terror every female, male, and youngling felt.

One female in particular stood in the center, looking about, attempting to find out what was the cause of the strain instead of cowering.

She wore standard fatigues, but lacked any kind of rank insignia. They appeared to have been ripped off, actually, and though the patterning of the fatigues was the same, they were black with yellow highlights; this tended to signify special ops troops.

However, the Reapers weren't interested in special ops, they only wanted the intelligent, the charismatic, the officers, the scientists...And the biotics.

They hadn't found many Turian biotics. They wanted more.

This was why Lieutenant Nilea Kyrik always kept her hood up. She didn't want those damn marauders to see the base of her neck.

"Kyrik, You know what's going on?" A companion, oddly enough a human, by the name Warrant Officer Dwayne Hicks, asked. He had been an N7 destroyer once, but now his armor was battered and beaten, many pieces ripped out to lessen the weight the destroyed servos had carried; the rocket launcher smashed beyond recognition, and the arm-mounted grenade launcher ripped out.

"The Reaper's hull is straining. Feel that pressure? It's the inertial dampeners acting at full power."

"Why does that matter?"

"When was the last time you were able to feel the speed of a ship?"

"On the shuttle I tried to take-oh...They're trying to get away from something?"

She nodded. "I wonder what...I've never seen a Reaper afraid of something before."

The entire room's lights flickered for a second, and for a brief moment the prisoners felt no acceleration from the engines...just before they were flung across the room, towards the side facing aft.

"Get 'em!" Someone yelled, the fear replaced by anger. The already-beaten and battered Reaper soldiers were torn to shreds by the angry prisoners within seconds.

Kyrik grabbed the head of the marauder closest to her, and with a snarl, twisted.

The neck snapped with a wet pop and the sparking of electrical circuits, as she grabbed its weapon, and wiped the blood off with what remained of the creature's uniform. She did take the body's ID tags that were still on a chain hung around its neck, however.

The marauder had been a Turian once. His loved ones would want to know what happened.

Kyrik checked the thermal clip of the weapon, threw down her hood, and synched the gun up with her HUD.

As several others around moaned in pain, with their limbs at odd angles, Kyrik wondered how she had survived without any damage…

"LT…" a voice coughed under her.

She looked down, and noticed that her knee was accidentally on her friend's neck, "Oh, sorry Hicks!"

"It's okay," He wheezed, "Armor took most of it...And I've got blood to spare…"

"Don't I know it. Mr. Bloodmobile. Get up, I've got medi-gel."

After their wounded were treated, the group realized the Reaper's internal defenses weren't working. The enemy hadn't tried killing them at all during their riot.

"Alright everyone, the longer we're aboard this thing, the less chance we have of getting home!" Kyrik cried, "So quit crying, we're Turians! No fear! Get on your feet, and let's blow some shit up!"

 **XXXXX**

The Reaper could do nothing as its sensors detected some of the fresher organics momentarily override indoctrination. It was too busy dealing with the intense pain it was feeling from its engine sensors, and the damage across all internal systems.

Its main gun was offline, engines were offline, it was drifting in space on momentum alone; in addition, many of the vermin pens had broken open, and the few soldiers onboard were being pushed back from critical areas.

They would not succeed. The geometry of the Reaper's rooms, and the fields would slowly overcome them, and then-

Abruptly, there was an explosion directly ahead. Fragments bounced off the hull as the Reaper realized the explosion had not been the destruction of a friendly vessel, or a premature detonation.

It was designed to slow the Reaper down.

It scanned the surrounding area, despite the damaged sensors, and managed to lock onto an organic ship, firing weapons of incredible power from the polar orbit of the former holding.

It was no ordinary spacecraft. It was the primitive war machine. The abomination. Coming for them.

It was intent on taking the Turian colony, and terminating as many Reapers as it could.

 _Curious..._ The Reaper detected fellows in similar situations, stranded without power and drifting, instead of complete destruction.

Even stranger, the targets seemed to be random, those that were targeted were not incapacitated in any particular order.

The only characteristic unique to each of the targeted ships were their large holding capacity...

The Reaper checked its logs. Virtually none of the conscripts loaded onboard had been through proper processing. They had not yet been entranced.

It reached out to the others within signal range, and they sent back similar results.

The abomination had also only used its guided munitions, and lighter megaton-yield weapons; using both to destroy the engines of destroyers and capital ships, and cease their movement.

There was only one conclusion.

 _It's trying to recover us intact, and retrieve its filthy allies._ the Reaper realized, just as it detected the abomination on a docking course.

Desperately, as it felt the machine enter its network, the Reaper tried to initiate a core meltdown.

 _Accursed insects!_ The rebelling conscripts had damaged something critical.

 _Requesting assistance! Repeat-equesting-ssistance-_

The distress call the Reaper tried to send out was cut off piece by piece as each communications array was knocked out, one after another.

Closer and closer the abomination came.

The insects were crawling around in the Reaper's brain. It could feel mental blockages breaking, the minds of the long dead entering its thoughts as the mind fragmented.

Screams. Demands. Questions. Hatred. A hatred that began to burn.

A hatred of itself.

The Reaper couldn't operate, couldn't function, it was falling apart from the inside...

Mercifully, something disconnected.

 **XXXXX**

"Whoo! Eat that, you Reaper shit-ass fuck!"

Kyrik had no idea how the youngling had picked up language like that so fast, he wasn't old enough for mandatory service. She wasn't surprised though, she herself also picked up a few new curses while on Taetrus, and about a dozen in the prison camp.

"Nice work, kid! That ought to slow it down!" said Hicks as he pulled the youngling back up onto the ledge they stood on.

There was a fire below that quickly began to spread from the area the youngling had sabotaged, and their "ledge" was more or less a crossbeam. They were in a wide corridor for some sort of cabling, and had seemed like the best place to do some damage.

"Alright, my drone managed to get a map down to where the shuttles are before it crapped out, so we can get out of here!" An engineer they had picked up was typing rapidly into his omni-tool.

"Thanks...trooper," she had no idea what the guy's name was. "Everyone! Follow us! We have a way out!" Kyrik cried, getting the mob around them gathered up, just before another impact upon the hull knocked them onto the deck again.

"That someone shooting at us?" Hicks shouted.

"No...There aren't any new alerts...Maybe debris? The engines are out, so we might have bumped into a dead ship."

"Attention all friendly personnel..." A voice came over a PA.

"Since when did Reapers have loudspeakers?" Kyrik muttered as she raised her weapon.

"This is General Partinax of the Taetrus Expeditionary Force. All friendly personnel, get to the nearest shuttle bay or docking port within 20 minutes. We're here to rescue you. Be ready to relinquish weapons on arrival, we don't know how many of you have been indoctrinated."

Before the general had even finished speaking, the carefully arranged POW units broke apart, rushing for wherever they could go, knowing that death or a flimsy shuttle wasn't the only way out now.

After several minutes of running through the giant Reaper, Kyrik's small band reached the nearest airlock, knowing not everyone would be able to fit in the captured shuttles; they had to secure another docking port to get everyone off.

The first one they found had a rescue party assembling a barricade before it; as Kyrik's group and others arrived, their weapons leveled towards the former prisoners.

"Same team guys! Same team!" Hicks yelled, desperate to get off the nightmare of a starship, but putting up his hands, rifle held above his head.

"You all heard the general. We don't know how many of you have been indoctrinated," the lead Turian officer growled, his pistol aimed right at Hick's chest, "So put the gun down, human. You might be able to get out of here."

The warrant officer looked to Kyrik, who sighed, then nodded approval; she carefully placed her weapon down, and kicked it towards the rescuers.

"Thank you!" the rescue leader said loudly in an irritated/relieved tone.

Slowly they were moved into the transport, being carefully searched for weapons as they did so.

Occasionally the ship would shudder and groan as debris slammed into the hull, and the former prisoners moved even faster.

 **XXXXX**

 **Location: Unknown**

The ancient, but shining sleek vessel slowly crept closer to the blue and white freighter approaching.

Fine maneuvers were made as docking tubes extended, bursts of gas escaping from each ship silently to complete the union.

Finally, the ships were linked, their motions matching perfectly, as the insects that controlled them scurried about within.

Three Quarians strode purposely through their stealth vessel, moving towards the primary docking port.

Of the three, two were large and strong-looking, unmistakably soldiers judging by their posture...And being armed to the faceplate with weaponry.

The third, the leader, wore a basic, but good-looking envirosuit. Most of the torso was colored in shades of black with some silver highlights(though mainly along the arms), a glowing grey faceplate, and no additional armor plating; and only a single sidearm for a weapon.

Her guards were dressed much the same, and the party's weaponry was sleeker and more well taken care of than even the best Turian soldier's.

They entered their own airlock, allowing it to depressurize and give them access to the umbilical.

They strode quickly across, entering the other side as soon as it was opening.

There stood a Batarian member of the Blue Suns, dressed in their typical armor and grinning an evil grin.

"Welcome aboard, suit rats," He snarled in a patronizing tone, "I'm afraid we're going to have to relieve you of your wea-"

The deck thumped as the Quarian marine stomped over and loomed above the merc.

The leader behind the marine either knowingly or unknowingly tilted her head to the right.

The Batarian refused to be intimidated. The very _idea_ of a _Quarian_ being superior to him-

The next thing he knew he was lying in fetal position on the deck plating, holding his stomach and struggling to breath.

"Which way to the cargo bay?" The female Quarian hissed.

The other guard, a human, shot his arm out to the right, "T-t-that way, to the right, and take another right." and began perspiring as the Quarians walked by.

They exited the docking port, moved down the spine of the modular vessel, and took another right.

Within stood a squad of Blue Suns, with one Batarian ringleader sitting in a chair in the center of the cargo module.

His armor was little different from the others...They learned _something_ from Omega at least. He was leaning back in his seat, arms folded over his chest, head cocked to the right, and his foot rested upon a large rectangular crate before him.

It was a blank, non-descript crate, with several cylinders and other containers with the same total lack of identification.

"So, the high and mighty Quarians have shown at last." The Batarian sneered, "Took you long enough. What? Did your ship break down?"

The other guards laughed mildly when he gave them a look.

The Quarian leader was unfazed, and leaned back, crossing her own arms over her chest, and cocking her head to the right.

"I see you haven't gotten around to getting rid of that corpse smell your perspiration makes. How can you stand _existing_ in that? When it can make it through my filters, I can only imagine how terrible it must be for everyone who works with you."

Several coughs filled the chamber, the guards cutting off their own genuine laughter.

Batarians were not to be treated as lowlives by a suit rat whore!

But, this was still business. The Batarian forced himself to take a breath, and narrowed his gaze. "The payment?"

The Quarian nodded to a marine, and he tossed a briefcase onto the large crate. "How quaint," the Batarian laughed, "Do you still use paper money in the flotilla?"

"What is in that case is your payment, regardless of its format. Now, hand over the merchandise."

The Batarian laughed again, "Oh, you stupid bitch. Why would I do that?"

Weapons clicked and clacked around the Quarian fireteam, "I lost a lot of funds, men, and equipment getting this stuff, half of it to the master thief who got the damn thing off the Citadel, and all of it was worth way more than what you are paying me. So I figure, take the stuff, if it's worth so much to the Quarians as compensation, and, why not hold the crew for ransom, and get a nice ship out of it?"

He grinned wolfishly, expecting the whore to wither and beg for mercy.

To his complete surprise, she began to cackle. Not laugh, cackle. For a long time, the marines just glared(or assumed to be, judging by their eye shape) at the lead Batarian, as the other mercs stared dumbfounded at the female Quarian.

"I have you at gunpoint, I could space you at any moment, I'm probably going to sell you, a major Quarian official into slavery. What in the name of all the gods could possibly be funny?"

She finally ceased her frightening cackle. "I don't know. If I had me at gunpoint, those wouldn't be my first choices."

The unfortunate Batarian guarding the airlock to the Quarian ship reached for the control panel, the boarding party assembled behind him.

Those arrogant world-less suit rats would pay for humiliating him.

There was a clank on the other side of the door.

Clank. Another.

Clank.

Clank.

His mind went into slow motion, and he turned equally slow. He had to tell them…

The signals hadn't even reached his feet before the shrapnel tore through his skull.

" _Hull breach. Docking port 1. All personnel evacuate all adjacent sectors._ " The computer voice rang through the cargo bay as the Quarian cackled again.

There was a thud, and several more pounding sounds as a live body hit the window that made the roof of the cargo compartment.

"What have you done!?" The Batarian pointed an accusing finger at the lead Quarian, who smirked under her helmet.

"Merely a precaution. I knew your reputation, you insect. Quarians are much more resourceful than you believe."

She pulled her sidearm out, and pointed its laser sight into one of the Batarian's eyes, "As a side note, when I am old, there is something I will look back upon with enormous pride. And that something is killing you."

The round tore the side of his head apart, and he fell to the ground with a meaty thud. The rest of the guards aimed their weapons at the Quarian, who merely cackled yet again and pointed upwards.

There were four more Quarians out there. Attaching something to the window.

"Everybody out, everybody-"

Explosive decompression tore the crew out instantly, leaving the the Quarian female impatiently tapping her foot as the marines quickly moved forward, and hit the largest container with the butts of their rifles.

It refused to budge, and they gave the thumbs-up.

The female looked up, and ensured that the marine fireteam had retrieved the rest of the equipment not stuck to the floor with magnets. Several more reverberations resounded through the hull, signaling the deaths of the rest of the crew.

"Marines, ensure that the crew never received the chance to transmit a message. You were a few moments off in your timing. Improve on the next strike. You two," she pointed to her escort, "Make sure that the armor is still intact. I did not go through all this effort to be beaten by a _Batarian_."

"Ma'am? Are you sure?"

"Of course I am, you simpleton. You know not to question my orders."

Carefully, one of the marines pulled out a specially-designed crowbar, and hooked it up to a corner as he made sure he was standing firmly to prevent any spin; the other held the panel onto the crate as his fellow unscrewed each of the bolts holding it in.

Just as carefully, they moved the lid from the top, and looked upon the crate made of...Some unknown alloy.

It was painted mainly in blue, with three silver stripes lying diagonally across the center. In the top left corner was some sort of identification code, beginning with the prefix "Powered Exoskeleton-BDU Mk. 3".

"Excellent. Proceed as planned."

"Yes, Admiral."

 **XXXXX**

 **Codex Updated**

 **Starfury-** One of the few truly universal concepts in the galaxy amongst species, the starfury is a fighter designed purely for space combat. It utilizes sixteen individual thrusters mounted on four struts that reach out from the center of the craft; they are mounted to allow for the greatest range of movement. As a result of this geometric design the starfury is a craft universally developed across all species, and is one of the most maneuverable craft ever conceived despite the usage of mass effect technology.

Unfortunately, due to its space-only design, many species have rejected this craft as their premier fighter in favor of small craft that use more fuel and are less maneuverable, but can operate in almost any atmosphere.

However, with the heavy losses sustained in space combat against the Reapers, militaries are searching for every advantage they can get; Most pilots cannot survive long enough for aerodynamic designs to be of any use. In addition, the maneuverability and propulsion problems caused by the atmospheric designs are becoming more prevalent. As a result the starfury is re-entering production on several planets, and new designs are being developed to allow these powerful craft to fight in atmosphere.

Armament consists of two omni-directional mass accelerators and hardpoints for additional weaponry.


	9. Chapter 9: Gathering

The sunlight dimly spread into the wide black chamber, the aqua coloration of its outer layer contrasted with the bright solid orange of the displays assembled across the window. The single occupant sat in the single chair in the center of the room, holding a cigarette to his mouth as he browsed through the files.

The smoke slowly wafted away from the Illusive Man as he exhaled, and knocked ash into his tray. Several screens became snowy for a moment as the cloud drifted through them, the light refracting off of the inside of the smoke.

Most in the inner colonies and on Sol had done away with conventional tobacco, for obvious reasons, and even electronic cigarettes had become increasingly rare. Ever since Shanxi, however, the Illusive Man had loved the things, and spent significant sums to get regular tobacco shipments from colonies that could dodge those regulations and social orders.

Manswell's Copernicus colony was a good place for the crop. That billionaire had done quite a job making Alpha Centauri a home, especially considering the planet's original temperature when they had first gotten there.

Earth plants usually didn't grow well on goldilocks-type planets, but it was much easier to get an Earth-biosphere going on those worlds without any indigenous plant life to fight back.

Lucky the Reapers didn't think Alpha Centauri was a prime target; it would be inconvenient if the best Terran tobacco left in the galaxy was destroyed.

The thought of the Manswell Expedition brought to mind the possibility of other lost colonies..

The thought brought to mind the Bolo.

That tank.

He inhaled another cloud of fumes, and selected a control, bringing up a text document with a diagram of the Bolo featured.

"From a lost colony" indeed, anyone with access to cached versions of extranet sites could see that all information about the marvelous machine had been added the day it was revealed.

And what a machine it was. It resisted their best cyber warfare efforts with ease, incapacitated the agent who had tried to board, and nearly single-handedly ended the siege of Palaven and Taetrus.

The computer systems were more advanced than anything ever seen, perhaps more than the Reapers themselves.

Its primary weapons fired plasma, and had an estimated output of several _megatons_ at least. Its secondaries had similar output, and the tertiary weapon systems were heavy artillery batteries and missiles, carrying more firepower than a pre-space military.

It could ensure victory against the Reapers, and human dominance over the galaxy, and the fools used it to save the damned Turians.

Then there were its friends. The "Cloud Defense Force". Recon had no idea where the frigate involved in the Genophage Cure retrieval mission, the _Mako_ , had originated. Curious, normally no one could escape Cerberus reconnaissance, especially not human vessels, but the only information they had were rumors of strange craft in the general area of the Krogan home system.

There was also this General Graham, if he even _was_ a military officer. He had humanity's best interests at heart(or so it seemed), but even so was clearly unfit to command the Bolo. He could have held the Citadel at gunpoint, take control and use his resources to build the Crucible.. Instead he appeased the Council and took back Palaven.

Disloyal, useless, futile, the only way to win was to take control of the Reapers and wipe out all other inferior races...

He inhaled suddenly, held his breath, and exhaled.

The aliens would always be a potential threat, but they were still people. Humanity just needed to ensure dominance to prevent Earth's extermination, not commit genocide.

The Illusive Man shook his head and turned to another display, an image of a human body.

Having gathered information from what medical scans they could get away with, and the blood samples and fingerprints recovered from C-Sec, Cerberus had found that General Graham very clearly was not from their little corner of the galaxy. His DNA revealed evidence of minute, yet very advanced genetic tampering. His bones were extremely tough, and he was able to heal exponentially faster from minor wounds. His fingerprints also were not in any major database, but that came as no surprise to anyone; many distant colonies were lax on certain types of registration.

C-Sec x-rays had also revealed that he had several implants in his body. Some sort of communication device, electronic contact lenses, and several other pieces of technology that they couldn't identify. Several of them seemed to be damaged, and scar tissue indicated that there had been several more. These had been delicately, but violently removed by some sort of medical laser.

The flu outbreak on the Citadel after he arrived was indicative that his colony had been separated from the major human population long enough to develop a separate strain of the virus. There was also a variety of other minor illnesses, some known, others unidentifiable, but the amount was clear evidence that he had been in an unsanitary location without healthcare around a large amount of other humans; I.E. a prison camp, as he had said.

There were even traces of artificial biodegradable materials in his bloodstream, as well as several operational nanobots, constructed from the same materials, but had been injected recently. These were currently being studied by Cerberus' biological warfare division.

The Illusive Man inhaled a cloud of smoke, and pulled up a different display, this time a very detailed schematic of the Bolo alone. Nothing could penetrate the hull, they had tried everything from x-rays to sonar, and all they had was its basic length, width, and height. Mass was incalculable without knowledge of its construction.

The alloys it was made of were beyond the most advanced sciences available, a nuclear device would at best keep the pilot trapped for a few days until the Bolo could leave the irradiated area. The shields were better than that of the Reapers, they could not only stop energy weapons, but were in fact _charged_ by them. Analysis of the impact patterns on Menae suggested that it might even have an anti-gravity system. Its AI was better than that of the Enhanced Defense Intelligence and the Geth to boot.

However, images also revealed significant damage to several portions of the Bolo. One of its primary cannons had suffered a massive impact that rendered the weapon inoperable, and a hole in its upper hull had been hastily covered by a thinner layer of armor.

 _These..._ he struggled with the name, _Clackers might be as powerful as Graham said they were._

Nothing in the known galaxy, not even the Reapers could hope to stop the Bolo, so whatever the Clackers were, they added more evidence to the prevailing theory about the origin of the machine.

It quite possibly could have come from the future.

Really, all the evidence pointed to this. Colonies unknown to humanity, alloys, weapons, and shields beyond anything currently in the galaxy. Unidentifiable bacteria detected in Graham's bloodstream, nanotechnology far in advance of their own, and a genetic tree far too many generations removed from any known one to be contemporary.

The question was, how had it gotten here? Was it natural, some cosmic coincidence? The product of a god? Or was it artificial, the result of an experiment gone wrong? A deliberate attempt to travel back in time?

Its databanks posed a significant threat. With the information the machine held, anyone could radically alter the timeline, and change the balance of galactic power much more than even the Bolo's weaponry could.

 _Like dropping a modern aircraft carrier outside Pearl Harbor the day before the attack…_ He mused.

Unfortunately, not much could be done to directly control the Bolo. After their infiltrator had been incapacitated by the Bolo, the majority of their Citadel deep cover operatives had ceased all contact.

A mere slip up was thought to be the cause, during the first few disappearances, to be expected when working with double agents. What was strange about this particular instance, however, was how all of their monitoring devices had gone offline within mere _minutes_ of each other.

The Illusive Man smirked respectfully as he brought up the message transmitted by the Bolo when the last man had disappeared. "They are under my protection."

Impressive. Discovering all of their best operatives from just the single captured infiltrator's equipment. He could almost believe the Bolo was more than just a machine.

They would need to change their approach. Cerberus _did_ serve humanity after all, and so did the Bolo. Why, Graham would just love to have the support of humanity's best and brightest if he was educated of their true nature!

More effort would need to be put into locating the rest of the CDF, and turn them back towards the light.

That Alliance probe could now be dealt with safely as well, there was no one left to investigate if it "happened" to have a malfunction.

They needed to find out what the origin of those strange readings had been.

 **XXXXX**

 **Tuchanka**

The command center was deathly silent.

Dark as dark gets, too.

No windows that could shine in on the gloomy chamber, no displays to brighten it. Everything was locked up tight and shut down.

The lighting systems were long dead, vermin had hungrily devoured most of the delicious copper wiring. They had also eaten any controls using soft materials, and most of the physical command consoles were battered and beaten, their innards exposed to the creatures that live in the deep places of the world..

The displays, physical screens not holograms, were cracked and inactive.

Large chairs, built for inwardly-arching backs and tails, sat ready at their stations, as they had been for nearly a thousand years or so; and so they would for perhaps another thousand if they had to.

Suddenly...There! A shaft of light!

The bulkhead moaned and shuddered, dust falling down in clouds around the ancient door, the logo once emblazoned upon it erased by time. Finally, after such a racket, it opened a crack, scaring several pests away as the vile ultraviolet beams began to penetrate the long silence.

With a creak, it opened wider.

"Christ, what did you seal that thing with?" a strained human voice shattered the silence completely. There was a whir of electronic servos as the hatch squeaked open another few millimeters.

"Duct tape and Turian blood, pyjak. Pull!" a deep feminine voice ordered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The metal only whined, moaned, and squealed in response, refusing to budge like a stubborn child.

"The door's warped. Will you let me fix it?" a third exasperated tone asked.

"We don't need those things. My exoskeleton is all we need." the first doubtfully said after a pause.

"Screw the exoskeleton, muscle's all we need…" the second voice stated.

"Shut up and move. Quit trying to one-up each other and let someone who knows what they're doing work."

A chorus of grumbles filled the chamber as a shadow fell over the doorframe. With a grunt, the owner of the second voice slammed something against the ancient bulkhead.

Several explosions worked in concert to echo through the command center, as the bent edges of the hatch reversed their centuries of warping in an instant.

"Now you can flirt." the third voice laughed.

With mutters of denial, the other two began to pull the door open again.

The three figures appeared in the doorway.

One towered over the others, a large head silhouetted in the light slightly raised above broad shoulders. Three fingers were on the hands that held a large crowbar. A Krogan.

The second in the middle, a human, was slightly shorter than either of her compatriots, wearing a set of power armor and holding a large sledgehammer, covered in a light layer of soot from the engineering micro-explosives. The handle began to collapse in on itself as she put it on her side.

Her suit had more armor than that of most powered BDUs, and several additions. Containers of fluids and gasses were mounted on her back above a roll of cable, connected to several devices positioned around the arms. Combat engineers had a lot of equipment.

The third was taller the second, but not as tall as the Krogan. He wore his own set of combat engineer powered armor, a plasma torch collapsing into his power armor's right arm.

The human's power armor had silver coloration on the upper chest, upper arms, and lower legs, while the opposite areas were colored in blue.

"This place stinks, what died in...Oh." He noticed a skeleton in the corner.

"Hopefully the batteries held up…" the Krogan muttered and moved to the raised command platform. In the center was a once-lavish and grand swivel chair, that was now coated with a thick layer of dust.

A command console stood off to one side of the chair, and the Krogan went to stand before it.

She brushed off several more skeletons, and hit a large button, then flipped several switches.

Nothing.

She growled, and tried the sequence again.

Still nothing.

The Krogan slammed her fist into the side of the console, noting a dent as old at as the ship in the same spot her hand landed. Obediently, it began to power up.

"Banks, reactor control's over there." She pointed to a corner of the command center.

"Right," the female human engineer acknowledged.

"Pyjak, navigation's there."

The other engineer grumbled again as he went to a forward console.

Several of the surviving lights activated, as the room began to hum and course with energy.

"Reactor's out of reaction mass, but the emergency backups are working."

"Pyjak?" the Krogan asked as she moved to the back wall.

The male engineer huffed, pulled off his helmet and replied, "Navigation's online, but without the main reactor, we can't take off. Shields...Wait, _kinetic barriers_ are like that too. They work, but we don't have enough power to keep them on for long."

"Weapons are completely totalled," Banks reported, "Ammo, electricity, targeting systems...You name a problem, we've got it."

A holographic display appeared on the back wall before the Krogan. Several bar graphs were revealed, all red with Krogan lettering "I think I found life support. What a surprise, everything's out."

Banks sighed, "Jesus, everything down to the kitchen sink."

"What?" the Krogan asked, "What kitchen sink?"

"It's an idiom or something, forget about it...Anyway, this thing is gonna need some major yard work to even totally power up."

'Yeah, but it'll be worth it." She hit a control, and on the wall above the life support console, a pair of lights lit up.

The revealed a square plaque, with a border around a globe of a green planet, with a Krogan in fancy armor and bearing a large bird on his shoulders overlaid onto it.

IWS _Invincible_ was written in the border on top, and DN-01 on the bottom. Not that the humans could read it, it was all in ancient Krogan script.

It took a minute for everyone to realize that the globe was Tuchanka...Many, many years ago.

"My ancestors built these things to last, and we're gonna get it operational. If those quad-less Council pyjaks don't like it, talk to the dreadnought." said Talyth Kharnu of clan Talyth, direct descendant of Fleetlord Talyth Kerg, commander of the last Krogan fleet a thousand years ago.

Her voice took on a grand, almost reverent tone, though slightly cliched, like that of a narrator.

"We are not leaving the _Invincible_ to crumble into dust, forgotten in the ruins. She will walk amongst the stars once again until she can fight no more. The Imperial warship _Invincible_ , the first and only surviving Krogan dreadnought, will rise from the grave to destroy all the Reapers, save the Council races, and let the Krogan reclaim their place in the galaxy."

Kharnu's speech was underscored by her striding up to the command chair, and dramatically seating herself upon it.

"This is it. The dawn of a new age." She confidently proclaimed to the world.

The mood was utterly ruined when the sound of a panel falling resounded through the bridge. Newly-nicknamed engineer pyjak had removed a panel from a console, and released a swarm of space cockroaches that had used it as a nest, and were now desperately seeking escape from the chamber.

The engineer was pursuing them, his plasma torch alight as he stomped and burned the horde.

Kharnu saw another Korgan entering the bridge step out of the way as pyjak and the cockroaches ran by.

"What's with these humans and being scared of bugs?" the arrival asked.

"No idea, they're weird people." Kharnu sighed.

 **XXXXX**

The alarm quietly chirped once, and gently vibrated Shepard's bed.

The sound of guitar strings being strung resounded through the compartment, a slightly upbeat tune filling the Captain's Cabin with a sweet melody.

 **The greatest adventure is what lies ahead…Today and tomorrow are yet to be said…**

The voice was soothing, calm, and gentle. The singer rolled his words, but still had careful enunciation.

 **The chances, the changes are all yours to make...The mold of your life is in your hands to break…**

Shepard sat up, shaking his head clear of the grogginess that filled it, and smiled as he heard the old song.

 **The greatest adventure is there if you're bold...Let go of the moment that life makes you hold…To measure the meaning, can make you delay; it's time you stop thinking and wasting the day…**

He pulled back the covers, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his pants and combat boots.

 **The man who's a dreamer and never takes leave...Who thinks of a world that is just make-believe...Will never know passion, will never know pain...Who sits by the window will one day see rain...**

Shepard decided against a "real honest-to-god shower", and instead went for what astronauts had been using for centuries; special non-rinse shampoo.

It worked for hygiene, and didn't make the ship smell like something died in a latrine.

 **The greatest adventure is what lies ahead...Today and tomorrow are yet to be said...**

He made sure his omni-tool was charged, and headed for the elevator, mumbling the last lyrics of the song.

 **The chances, the changes are all yours to make...The mold of your life is in your hands to break…**

He grinned like crazy, feeling happy for no good reason. Why not? He was going to have breakfast with four of the people he cared about most in the world...Or galaxy.

"The greatest adventure is what lies ahead…" He finished in a soft whisper as the hatch closed cutting off all sound, and the reassuring whir of the servos kicking in.

Who cared if it was a daily thing? He liked having some of the old gang back together.

He emerged from the elevator on the crew deck, noting _again_ that the light bulbs needed to be replaced.

Shepard retrieved a tray from the kitchen area, the least horribly-tasting pre-wrapped sandwich, and a drink. There was Vega, at the central table of the mini-mess hall, chatting with Liara.

Her head was resting on her hand, and she was blinking rapidly as Vega droned on excitedly.

"...So I had the T-rex in a headlock, and was about to make him beg for mercy, when…"

Shepard strategically slammed down his own tray, jerking the tired and bored doctor awake.

"Morning all," he spoke cheerfully and loudly, "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Hey, loco. The doc and I were just exchanging stories," the lieutenant replied with a higher degree of glee, "You wouldn't believe some she has!"

"You left me out of storytime? I'm hurt!"

Liara rolled her eyes, and laughed, "Don't worry, you didn't miss much. James here was still regaling me with his _first_ tale."

The door to the forward battery hissed open softly, and out stumbled an exhausted Turian. Garrus rubbed his eyes, and shuffled towards the mess hall, retrieving a dextro-amino acid ration pack.

Slumping down on the bench next to Vega, he struggled to open the foil wrapping.

Wrex wasn't too far behind, and picked up his own tray from the kitchen.

On the Krogan's tray was a large cooked bird of some kind, larger than a turkey in fact. It could have been a dodo bird for all anyone knew.

When he took a seat next to Shepard and Liara,, he banged a knee against the table, and the bench creaked slightly.

The commander and Liara slowly began to slide towards Wrex as the end of the seat rose under the weight.

"Liara. Shepard."

"Wrex." they acknowledged.

After several minutes of quiet eating, Garrus spoke up. "Okay, I'll ask. What does everyone think about the 'Cloud' people?"

There was another pause as everyone thought it over.

"They've got some nice guns," Vega started, "and that Bolo of theirs is pretty awesome. Glad they're on our side."

"They've been good to my people so far. They haven't tried to exterminate us, so that's a plus." Wrex commented. "I think they're a bit behind the times though. When we first met them, they kept calling us 'Grakaan'. I haven't heard that name in a long time."

"It's the name of your species in one of your ancient languages, correct?" Liara inquired.

"Yeah. On a lot of the old pre-nuking buildings back home, you see a lot of "property of the Grakaan people' signs. I don't know why aliens would use it, no one speaks that language anymore." Wrex grunted.

"Could be an attempt to be respectful." Garrus mused.

"They're doing a good job of it. The rest of their fleet has been giving us a lot of assistance on Tuchanka."

He grinned, "Not big guns, actually. Stuff to make us survive, light-years ahead of the Salarian junk. Clean water, medicine, and a bunch of genetically-engineered crops that won't wimp out at the first sign of disease! Took a while for us to get my scientists to listen though."

Wrex took a massive bite of his meal, "Those humans have massive quads! One of their leaders, Pres-something, managed to knock Fortack _onto the floor_ with a headbutt! Beat your record, Shepard."

The commander nodded distractedly, deep in thought.

"Has anyone noticed how odd they act? Some of what I heard Graham and Hector say doesn't really add up. For example, there are no records of a 'Bolo' tank in any historical military database, especially not around 2000."

"So what? Maybe they got their facts wrong. I forget history all the time." Vega said.

"A human making that mistake, I'd believe. But a computer? Can't be. Also, he said something about Cloud being established a couple decades ago. Before we found the ruins on Mars."

"Well, maybe it was one of those sublight ships you sent out," Garrus offered, "Didn't an Asari research team get captured by one last year?"

Shepard shook his head, "Not many were sent out, actually. Even so, how could they establish a big enough infrastructure to build the Bolo within the time limit?"

"I will admit," Liara added, "This is very puzzling. I haven't heard anything about any lost human ships from my contacts. Cloud should have turned up by now. However, General Graham did at some point mention there was some sort of large war going on when the original colonists left Earth, maybe the records of the launch were destroyed during the fighting."

"The Second American Civil War? No, not enough time for that. Even then, _something_ would have been left over."

"Hmm, certainty impossible." A rapid voice spoke as a door hissed open. Mordin emerged from the medical bay, and swiftly crossed the distance.

"Many special operations across all species history. Some still hidden. Identity of all League of One operatives, still unknown."

Wrex coughed loudly, Garrus, Liara, and Shepard all exchanged glances.

Mordin laughed, "I know about your 2183 expeditions. I work for STG again, you know. Have access to old contacts. I commend you for your efforts, despite the tension the League caused."

"Mordin, how could my planet hide a colony ship launch? Any launch would have been detected…" Shepard asked.

"Yes, but detection systems primitive, if time period and family trees taken into account. Cannot be absolutely certain of no possible launches." He grabbed a ration bar of his own from the kitchen, opening it, and eating half of it in a blink.

"But the Alpha Centauri mission was detected last year, and had only been there for a few years. How could these people have stayed hidden for several decades?"

Mordin grimaced, "Been running analyses that I could get away with. General Graham several generations more removed than his community should be. Generation removal spans several centuries, not just decades."

He inhaled as he always did before a conclusion, "Either is lying, or has been lied to. Either conclusion possible."

With that, he left them alone again.

"Graham's been lying to us." Vega immediately concluded in a growl.

"What's the problem?" Wrex of all people asked.

"He lied about his colony! Who knows what's really going on..."

"He's not lying." Wrex's playful demeanor completely changed, and his entire body tensed.

Vega, determined to hold his ground, replied, "How do you know? His sob story about the conquered colony? The magic technology that can save us all and magically defeats all the Reapers? Can't believe we fell for it."

"I said, he's. Not. Lying." Wrex stood up, jostling the table.

"Wrex…" Shepard started, but even he was silenced by the force of Wrex's glare.

"So his people weren't bombed from orbit? Left to rot in a prison for a year? Didn't die by the hundreds as they dug through their own ruins? No," his voice took a sarcastic turn, "Maybe it was the Reapers just making it up and programming him. Did you even meet Graham? If he's anything like his officers, he's lost a ton of weight. Hard to fake that."

He stepped out from the bench and moved to go around the table, but Vega beat him to it. "The Reapers probably did program him! Who knows what they're are planning-"

Wrex loomed over the lieutenant, "Stop. Talking. Don't disrespect them."

"Don't disrespect the liars?"

" _Don't disrespect the only people who ever gave a damn about my race's well-being_!" The Krogan roared, and raised a fist to strike.

"Wrex!" Garrus pulled out his ever-present sidearm, Liara and Shepard both glowed with biotic energy, as Vega darted back into a combat stance.

Remarkably, Wrex's didn't hit Vega. It hung there in the air, shaking, as his rapid breathing became the only sound in the chamber.

Slowly, his arm fell to his side.

"They, are the only goddamn people in this galaxy who ever tried to help my people!" Wrex seemed willing to finish this with words, not violence. He'd changed.

"A few months ago, they came out of nowhere, and gave us food, clean water, medicine! They aren't trying to make us fight their war! They're helping us become a people again! My throne was on top of a reservoir of clean water, and we didn't even know it!"

"That's just what the Salarians did, _pendejo_!" Vega barked.

Wrex stomped a dent into the deck, "Damn it, that's not the point! The Salarians just let us survive, gave us guns and pointed out the door! They didn't help us recover cultural artifacts lost for thousands of years, like paintings, or holy scripture!"

"What? What did you find? What was it like? What-" Liara began to gush, but she hesitated when Wrex seemed to notice her for the first time.

He nodded to her to continue. She regained control of herself, and thought for a moment, "Have you recovered any music?"

Wrex grinned, "Morale has been higher than it's ever been, because we found the most glorious stuff I've ever heard. And I hate that classical shit!"

He activated his omni-tool, and after a second of silence, music filled the room. Drums, violins, horns, trumpets, name an instrument and it sounded like it was there. Epic, powerful, amazing. There were few other words to describe it.

When it was over, no one spoke. The tension was gone.

Vega looked embarrassed.

"Thank you, Wrex." Liara smiled.

"Our ancestors were amazing people." Wrex said as a reply.

"Yes. They were." Another deep voice agreed.

Eve, the female Krogan, had emerged from the medical bay.

"That was the Symphony of Kruban, performed by Qayrloc Qrikar two years before the holocaust. Legend has it that he survived the war, and wandered the planet performing, instead of fighting."

She pushed past Vega to stand before Wrex. "Where did you find that recording?"

"In an intact library that had been buried under an old skyscraper. No one had bothered to investigate, so it was completely untouched. Not even the pyjaks had gotten into it!" Wrex excitedly replied.

Eve nodded, "Why did you go to this library? For technical manuals, weapons technology?"

"No, no. We were looking for everything. Aliens don't know how to grow food on Tuchanka, and neither do we. The ancients knew. They had maps of water and mineral deposits too. Farmland, industrial facilities. We need to rebuild, so that we can be who we used to be."

"Does 'who we used to be' mean starting the rebellions all over again?" She growled, her eyes narrowing.

"No. That wasn't us. That was the Salarians screwing us up, making us their attack dogs and telling us where to fight, not why. We need to know why to fight, we need to be Krogan again. The ancients knew what Krogan were like."

 _Perhaps I have misjudged him..._ Eve thought, "Interesting. I never thought males had more than five brain cells."


	10. Chapter 10: At Last We Meet Dear Friends

" _I am Gandalf the White, and I come back to you, at the turn of the tide._ "

 _ **The Two Towers**_ **, JRR Tolkien.**

General Jamie Graham sat in Hector's command chair, gently snoozing as the seat rocked back and forth from acceleration.

He drooled slightly, his mouth open as he laid back in the seat. His Dinochrome Brigade uniform's smart-fabric collar had inflated to make a pillow.

His hand began to slide off the armrest, and was about to fall to his side and wake him.

The armrest gently tilted, and put his arm into a more comfortable position.

Graham rolled slightly to his side, his rest undisturbed.

Every once in awhile, the seat would jerk as two-millimeter long slugs of hydrogen were shot out of cannons around 86% the speed of light surrounded by plasma.

Occasionally irritating, but nothing to stop the young officer from taking a nap.

He was completely oblivious to the fact that a nuclear landmine had detonated underneath one of the Mk. XXXIIIs treads, and made that corner of the tank hot enough to boil water.

He didn't care that enemy aircraft would occasionally get blasted out of the sky 10 klicks out, or that a Reaper had attempted to flip them upside-down by tunneling underground.

Stupid plan in retrospect, trying to flip over a 32,000 ton vehicle roughly the same size as your own was not going to guarantee success.

Graham didn't care about any of that. All he cared was that his uniform's caffeine stocks were out.

All his friendly AI cared about was making sure his commander got his rest.

Though he would never admit it, Hector could never imagine unnecessarily waking up the human he trusted most.

Graham suddenly awoke with a start at the sound of the hatch opening, his uniform pillow deflating to form a proper collar..

General Partinax entered and pulled off his hard suit's helmet, taking a breath of fresh air.

"Radiation's clearing up, but it's not exactly safe to be outside without a sealed uniform. Don't know how Hector's avoiding the stuff, but it's still sticking to our gear."

"Durandal Bolo Assembly Facility builds...built its Bolos to last." Graham groggily muttered.

"Finally found a tonic of some kind. Spirits, you'd think that a _general_ could get coffee or something quicker than this."

Graham sat up, moved out from under the bubble dome, and stretched, mumbling, "Turian coffee, huh? I guess my immune system had gone too long without getting assaulted..."

Partinax snorted, "No, good old dirt coffee."

"What?"

"Damn," the Turian pulled up his omni-tool and pressed several controls, "Okay...I said 'good old _ground_ coffee'."

"Oh...You guys should really invest in neural implants. Makes translation so much easier." Graham tapped the back of his neck for emphasis.

"Anyway," Partinax continued, "Scouts from the 15th armored found some human coffee in a burnt out store, and sent it over. They said it was a thank-you note, something about saving their landing boat during the landings."

"I've lost track of how many we've saved…" Graham muttered as he gratefully took the offered package, and moved over to a panel on the wall, deploying a futuristic coffee machine. "Wish we could've gone after those Reapers that managed to get away though. We just didn't have the fuel, or the missiles to waste."

He sighed regretfully, but determined, "Least we saved who-knows-how-many POWs."

The coffee machine began to make obnoxious noises, signaling that it was near completion.

Partinax shrugged, "And taking the capital of Taetrus back was far more beneficial to the war effort than finishing off some beaten horde of Reapers. Think strategically, general. Think strategically…"

Graham removed the cup from the coffee maker, and took a long _slurp._

He turned back around with a nod, "Morale's going to improve now that the Reapers can't taunt your people anymore."

Partinax made no physical reaction, but Graham guessed that was a sore spot, "Those damned AI were broadcasting that footage across half the galaxy. Thanks to our pride, we lost a massive amount of equipment and blood trying to take it back."

He grimaced as he spoke, and made a fist with his right hand for a moment, before exhaling and releasing.

Hector's calm voice emanated from one of the speakers, "Despite the benefits of retaking this planet, it has brought to mind a number of concerns, considering the amount of weaponry expended during this campaign. Despite my best efforts to conserve ammunition, I still only possess a limited stockpile."

Hector displayed several percentages on the bubble dome. Most were at high levels, around 90% was the average. "Current numbers remain satisfactory, but it will remain an issue in the near future."

A schematic of a Bolo's manufacturing capability appeared as well, "Much of my expendable ammunition I cannot manufacture, such as guided missiles, most types of mortar and artillery shells, and several variants of anti-personnel ammunition."

Graham nodded, "He's right. With his onboard manufacturing and power cells, Hector can keep himself safe, but it'll be a lot harder to defend an entire invasion force spread out across the theater like this. Without drones or missiles..." he shook his head.

"It may not be wise to engage in these planetside skirmishes quite as often until I can be brought up to full strength." Hector concluded, "In addition, it would be beneficial to improve my combat loadout with organic armored fighting vehicle and aerial support. This could reduce my ammunition expenditure by as much as 25.8% on average during battle. Drone consumption would also be reduced by usage of the organic support vehicle's sensors."

"Alright then, let's get a few gunships and some Jiris AFVs, those have worked well so far." Partinax offered, nomming on what could best be described as a Varren sandwich.

"Bolos require specialized equipment, general." Hector interjected, "The vehicles I require must be able to carry out a variety of specific duties. I appreciate the effort, but I must decline."

Partinax seemed flustered for a moment, but could not hold in a short chuckle, and faked a hurt tone, "My word, Hector. You really know how to make a general feel wanted."

"He's right though," Graham interrupted, "We can't keep going with makeshifts, and laser clusters won't be able to hold out forever either. I have no idea how we're going to replenish the ammo for the AP guns. We've both got different types of ammo. I've thought about replacing the turrets with some of your -excuse me- inferior copies, but with that comes a ton of modification. I don't think your technological base can handle the mods that we need."

He stomped the floor for emphasis, "Just getting them out of the hull would be difficult. No nuts and bolts. Usually we'd have specialized equipment, but we'd have to use your people's gear. Duralloy is kinda hard to cut through."

"Then what do you need to keep going? Partinax asked, eager to keep his new friend and _amazing_ war machine in the fight.

"Hector? You have the schematics?" Graham asked.

"I have checked the general's record, and he possesses little background experience in the area of military engineering. To attempt an explanation would be futile…"

Graham glared at a visual pickup, and Hector finished his thought, "...However, this is a unique situation."

A holographic screen appeared in response, with several file names displayed and no additional information.

Graham looked at Partinax, and gestured forward. "Touchscreen!"

Partinax hesitantly moved forward, and hit the top one, "Dragon-class hovertank".

" _FV-77B Dragon-class Stealth Hovertank:_

 _Designer- Durandal All-Purpose Vehicles_

 _Manufacturer- Lima Arsenal Assembly Plant_

 _Self-Aware- Limited_

 _Complement- Minimum (1) Crew Required_

 _(6) Maximum crew_

 _Sensors and Processing Systems- [REDACTED] Radar_

 _[REDACTED]_

 _[REDACTED]_

 _Electronic Warfare- Mk. 75 SRBOC_

 _[REDACTED]_

 _Main Armament- 20mm Hellbore_

 _Secondary Armament- 4 lateral Gatling Laser Cluster_

 _Tertiary Armament- Defensive VLS System_

 _Design- Developed for stealth operations and minor skirmishes in organic support of Bolo Mk. XXXIII in response to Melconian [REDACTED] to assist in operations [REDACTED]."_

Partinax's eyes practically popped out of his head as he looked at the types of materials listed for construction. He noted that the description read more like the specifications for a Fleet vessel, rather than an armored fighting vehicle.

The general hastily hit the second file, "Wyvern-class flyer".

" _Lockheed Martin FR-60V Wyvern-Class Flyer:_

 _Manufacturer- Boeing Aerospace Defense Systems_

 _Self-aware- No_

 _Complement- (2) crew maximum_

 _Armament- Standard: Gatling Laser Cluster, Micro-missile launcher_

 _Mission Loadouts: 8_ _Hardpoints_

 _Avionics- [REDACTED]_

 _Design- Organic aerial support for Mk. XXXIII as a result of experience[REDACTED]._

If it was possible, Partinax's eyes got even larger.

"These are only samples of the standard frontline equipment that the Concordiat issued." Hector explained, putting a little bit of fear into the Turian's heart at the possibility of facing a force equipped such as this.

"It's gonna be...tough, getting all this stuff together," Partinaxx coughed as he browsed through other files for creating replacement ammunition, "I don't even think half of these minerals are on the table of elements…"

"We'll figure it out. That's what we do best!" Graham grinned.

"Strange…" Hector's voice echoed through the chamber. Graham suddenly grabbed ahold of the front of Partinax's jacket, " _Did he just say that something was strange?!_ " He asked with a hiss.

"Almost...Intriguing." Hector chuckled, and Graham rapidly stepped away from the other general.

He glared at one of the visual pickups, "Damn you, Hector, stop messing with me!"

"Apologies, my long-range sensor array must be malfunctioning."

"What makes you say that?" Graham asked.

"I am detecting a Cloud Defense Force Faster-Than-Light drive signal."

Graham's face changed from one of confusion to determination, and he leaped back into the command couch, several displays appearing before him.

"Is it a glitch?"

"Negative. All arrays are functioning within acceptable parameters. Signature is genuine...Stand by, receiving identification codes. CNV _Mako_ , FFG-654, Piranha-class frigate."

"Piranha-class? That's...That's an obsolete class, isn't it?" Graham tapped his foot anxiously, and thought deeply to recall the details.

It felt like a lifetime ago, but he recalled the information fairly quickly "It did only got retired a few years ago. Guess someone could have reactivated a few and fled during the invasion."

"Incoming transmission. Appears genuine, and you will be pleased to hear it."

There was a wash of static, and a transmission came through clear.

It was being delivered by state-of-the-art systems designed by the Concordiat of Man, and built by the Cloud Defense Force.

"This is Captain Alita Kyle of the CDF Naval Arm to Bolo Hector of the Line. Do you copy?"

Graham collapsed back in his seat in a dead faint.

 **XXXXX**

"What gives you the right?" Sparatus shook his finger at the human before them, standing on the pedestal before the Citadel Council with his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face.

"The same right that gives you the ability to judge who lives and who dies? The same right that gives you the ability to deem what species are worthy?" Thomas Reuter, astronomer-turned-computer expert-turned-diplomat asked.

The entire council resisted the urge to facepalm. Every time they ran into a new species they encountered this issue.

Tevos replied cooly, "We did not order the Genophage unleashed. We did not order the Quarians to be sent into exile. Our predecessors did. What shameful acts have your ancestors done that you are not particularly proud of?"

Reuter's left eye twitched. "The _Melconians_ …" he muttered.

"You have a point there…" He grumbled more loudly, "But that still doesn't give you the right to keep an entire species on a bunch of spaceships! Or to keep the Krogan down for a thousand years!"

"There were several movements even one decade after the Krogan Rebellions to get rid of the Genophage, and to help the Quarians, but after several laws were passed...Well...It's all been caught up in committee." said Valern, almost embarrassed.

Reuter couldn't help but laugh, "Bureaucracy, tell me about it. Listen though, you can't keep the Krogan down forever. It's evolution, one of these days they were going to wise up anyway, so why not help them now in a way that doesn't get them to try and exterminate half the galaxy?...Again?"

The disgruntled Council would never admit it, but with the galaxy on the line, they had no choice but to agree.

"This motion passes," Tevos said, "In exchange for hyperspace technology, continued cooperation with the Bolo Combat Unit, and general technological exchanges, the Council will deactivate the majority of CDEM units, grant all rights any sovereign government can expect to the Urdnot Federation, and allow for temporary repeal of all agreed-upon points included in the Tuchanka Armistice."

With an electronic _beep_ instead of a gavel hammering, the meeting was adjourned.

Reuter exhaled with a _woof_ , and deactivated the pad that bore his notes.

He unfortunately noticed the look Councilor Udina had on his face, the _I want to talk your ear off_ face.

Reuter quickly turned and walked down the steps towards three figures who showed similar signs of extreme relief that he had.

One wore the blue and silver of the CDF, and the other two were Urdnot Wrex and Commander Shepard.

"Good job, Tom." The first congratulated, "We managed to actually get something done that any actual diplomat probably would've taken a year to do!"

He glared at Wrex, "Or what one Krogan may have completely ruined."

"What?" The Krogan shrugged, "I woulda just...given them a nudge."

"Yes, Wrex. Your claymore shotgun would really _nudge_ them." Shepard laughed.

"Thanks, colonel," Reuter accepted, "Dealing with these guys is a breeze compared to…" He shuddered, "Never mind. We did it, though. The Krogan can finally kick some ass!"

Colonel Prescott nodded, "Those damn Reapers may have an advantage for now, but hopefully we can get some big guns built. Let them know they've been in a fight."

"I hope so, colonel, for all our sakes." Shepard agreed, "These Reapers are worse than anything we've faced before."

Prescott replied, "Concordiat equipment will at least give them a run for their money!"

He sighed heavily at the mention of the Concordiat, "It's a shame the war wrecked so much. We must be the only ones who remember the Concordiat. I don't know how you people were able to recover so much, and so little of Earth's history during the rebuild."

He realized that Shepard was staring at him with a strange look on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me.."

Shepard shook it off, "No, it's not a problem...I'm just confused. What's the Concordiat?"

"The Concordiat of Man? The mighty empire that protected half of a galactic arm with the Dinochrome Brigade?"

Shepard shrugged. "Graham mentioned it in passing...But then a lot of things he said didn't add up. Melconian, Deng, Quern, plasma cannons, handheld energy weapons, the Bolos...Before he came here, we didn't know about any of those things. I didn't even know the word Grakaan!"

Prescott shook his head, "That's not important right now, commander. We have much bigger problems on our hands."

He motioned for the rest of the group to follow, but Reuter shook his head.

"Sorry, I've got to talk with the negotiators, and," Reuter explained, gritting his teeth for the last portion, " _Udina_. I'll catch up with you later!"

On cue, they heard Udina's _outrage_ tone of voice ring out, and hastened to the elevator.

"Does _anyone_ like that human?" Wrex asked as they quickly hit several random buttons, just to avoid a conversation.

"His mother, I should say." Prescott commented, and all three laughed.

That was another weird thing Shepard had noticed about the people of Cloud.

Their jokes were always short and to the point, almost as if they were expecting someone to be watching who could take it out of context…

"So, colonel. You were saying?" Shepard asked as the elevator hummed.

"Even with all the weaponry we might be able to manufacture, we have no guarantee of victory."

Colonel Prescott's demeanor completely changed; gone was the cockiness and confidence he displayed in the Council chambers during the meetings, replaced with caution and anxiety.

"We can give the Reapers a fight, but the majority of the galaxy's forces are still equipped with mediocre gear. Seeing all the infrastructure from the races we've encountered, I don't think we'll be able to get modern equipment any time soon."

He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, "We can probably meet in the center between our two tech areas, but…"

He sighed, "I don't think we can manufacture enough of the right equipment to guarantee a victory. Hellbore construction's still a long way off, missiles development isn't doing too well, and we're losing colonies every day. Hector may be good, but he's not invincible either. His ammo's only going to hold out so long, and the Reapers have god-knows how many reserves."

"So, what do you suggest?" Wrex asked.

"We need allies. More than what we've got. We need the Concordiat's old friends...And foes."

The elevator went completely silent, and the three rocked back and forth in the stillness as the lift passed edges in the rails.

Shepard coughed, "Excuse me?"

"We need the Melconians in this fight. We need the Deng. We need the Harpies, we need everyone, maybe even the Malach! Anyone who was even a minor annoyance to the old Concordiat would be helpful."

The idea of something that could be a threat to this Concordiat...Shepard shuddered, but ignored the feeling.

"Can you get a list together of all the races you know about? I'll forward it to the Council, and they'll send ships to track down every lead. Hopefully we can get them to ignore any...minor issues experienced in the past."

Prescott tugged at his collar slightly, but Shepard said nothing.

 _The fun of diplomacy_ …The commander thought with a sigh.

 **XXXXX**

The Reaper fleet flew towards the Volus homeworld of Irune, casually avoiding the wreckage of the Turian defense forces that would lay forever nestled in the gentle grip of gravity.

The organics' damnable enslaved AI was not here to defend the pitiful and weak ammonia-breathers of this world. Any remaining defenses would be soon dealt with.

Only a token force, little more than a handful of Sovereigns, and twice as many destroyers, would be required to protect the massive transports that would cleanse this world.

Sensors began to light up as an unseen perimeter was breached, and a Volus satellite began to transmit some sort of signal via a primitive quantum entanglement array.

Its destruction was swift and efficient. Calling for help would not save the organics.

Within minutes of the signal's termination however, there was a mysterious energy spike that came from the heart of the fleet.

 _Impossible,_ the flagship said only a second after signal detection, detecting nothing beyond the reading, _undoubtedly an error. Conduct repairs immediately._

Unlucky for the flagship, it was not a false energy reading, or a virus that had spread across the fleet.

4.3 seconds after the energy spike appeared on sensors, the flagship Reaper completely disappeared into oblivion, along with a quarter of the Sovereigns, and an eighth of the destroyers.

They did not explode, nor were they vaporized or shredded by enemy fire, they were just...gone.

Gone into the blue vortex that had appeared in their place.

Several ships had been caught in the vicinity of the anomaly's appearance. Though not unlucky enough to be destroyed, they sustained heavy damage.

A third of the total remaining Sovereigns were crippled, along with a number of the destroyers.

Various sections of their hulls had been _stolen_ by the vortex. Plating connected to those areas were warped beyond comprehension, by the savage and unearthly weapon that had devastated their comrades.

Fire blossomed in the sky as the power cores of several Reapers were breached, and began to melt down.

Within the few seconds it had taken to appear, the vortex weapon had annihilated or critically damaged a third of the Reaper detachment.

Only the vortex was not just a weapon. It was a method of transportation.

From the jump point soared a single ship, the name CNV _Spartacus_ proudly adorning its flanks; missiles launched from their silos, riding on columns of fire as turrets began to turn and spin to life, targeting critical components.

The little destroyer had barely begun to show its teeth, even after a pair of Sovereigns exploded.

Charged up, the plasma torpedo launchers moved independently to target the crippled and helpless foes.

The rest of the combat detachment, surprised but still functional, made thruster burns that would put them on intercept courses with the CDF destroyer...When the second trap was sprung.

The bright blue vortex tore its way into existence with a flash. Hungrily, it absorbed a fifth of the remaining combat capable Reapers, and nearly a quarter of the troop transports.

This time, it was not a destroyer that emerged from the hyperspace window. Out flew instead, the Escort Carrier CNV _Mirai_ , CVE-182.

Her battle scars barely even scabbed over, the _Mirai_ bared her canines, and the main cannons burned into a Sovereign on an intercept course.

Drones, far more primitive than those the CDF commonly used, glided out of the rotating launch bays as she launched a dozen missiles.

They charged their plasma torpedoes while the carrier's AI calculated a firing solution.

The Reaper troop transports kinetic barriers did little to stop the stealthy atomic warheads. They glided right towards the enemy hulls, using mounted lasers to burrow tunnels wide enough to fit the warheads.

Once they had embedded themselves, the lasers clustered themselves in pre-programmed manners. Then warheads detonated.

X-ray beams cut right through the Reaper hulls, racing ahead of the atomic fire to make sure every bit of the vessels were properly cooked.

A hole was punched in the enemy lines. The fire let up for a moment, and allowed the organic vessels to fly right into the Reaper ranks with reckless abandon, firing as they flew untouched between ships.

Those few Reapers that managed to calculate firing solutions only succeeded in damaging themselves, their formations were too tight.

What seemed like insanity to some made perfect sense to others. It was an ancient tactic known as "The Ackbar Slash", forcing the enemy to choose their targets wisely to avoid hitting their allies. Little could be done to stop the organics.

The drones took heavy casualties from close-in weapon systems, but grimly flew inexorably onwards toward the largest enemy ships.

As one, when each squadron met their target, they fired. The first troop transport was gutted, armor rent asunder and hull thousands of years old disintegrated in an instant.

Another was destroyed. Then another. Two Sovereigns went up, along with their escorts.

In seven minutes, the fight was over. The torpedoes tore apart the convoy, terminated the Sovereigns, and destroyed all but a few destroyers.

The speed and swiftness of the attack sent the Reapers into an uncharacteristic full-scale retreat, and left the Cloud Defense Force vessels completely untouched.

"Ensign, what's the projected retreat trajectory for those things?" said Captain Lewis Moxley, former member of the communication division assigned to the Chryse CDF Operations Facility back on Cloud.

He now commanded the _Spartacus_ , being one of the few naval officers who had survived the Killing and gotten into the fleet.

"They're heading for the mass relay." The ensign reported, "Command to pursue?"

"Negative. We can't waste the ordnance, and we don't have the drop on them anymore."

The _Spartacus'_ battlescreens had taken heavy damage during the mad dash from Cloud, and had been further drained by activation of the hyperdrive.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, simply walking into enemy fire would recharge the shields. However, along with the majority of the systems, the battlescreen energy capacitors-responsible for channeling enemy fire into usable energy- were unfinished, untested, and like the shield generators, heavily damaged.

"Once the jump engines are recharged, we'll head to the next target. No sense chasing them either way, they're beaten. 'When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard'."

The navigator grinned, "'He who will win knows when to fight and when not to fight', eh?"

"No matter what, Sun Tzu stays with us." another officer commented.

"Amen," said Moxley, before asking, "How's the hull holding up after that jump?"

The engineering officer hit a few controls, "Doing about as well as you'd think, sir. We'll need to reinforce it at some point."

"How about the engines themselves?" Moxley asked.

"Taking a long time, but they're charging."

The _Spartacus_ was lucky for a destroyer; most standard Concordiat vessels below cruisers did not have hyperspace generators, due to their expense and power usage. Standard FTL was just so much cheaper.

While it did not grant the combat benefits of jump points, was much safer and easier to use. Without precise data for a hyperspace window a ship could end up splinched _in_ an enemy ship instead of beside it.

The CDF however, due to their limited number of naval vessels before The Killing, decided to cram as much as they could onto whatever ships they had. Thus, the little vessel could, every once in awhile, make a hyperspace window, with the proper data.

"See if we can make a broadcast to all of Irune, let's tell them they're safe." Moxley ordered, killing time until the engines were back online.

 **XXXXX**

Shari Barstow, cyberneticist-turned-footsoldier-and-back, sighed in relief when the idiot finished his latest rant about the "evils" of AI.

She had stopped listening about twenty minutes ago, and was browsing the rudimentary extranet for something interesting to read when the Salarian finally stormed off.

 _Moron._ she thought as she left the modest break room and proceeded down the hall towards the lab, _Like your power armor project is going to outshine a Bolo. Can your big 'Gundam' project shoot down something in orbit? Didn't think so._

The idiot had been assigned to a team developing heavy powered combat exoskeletons, better than the ATLAS mechs they currently had.

Whenever Barstow or any of her team appeared in the breakroom, he constantly bothered any in sight.

This was one of the other reasons they hadn't had too many volunteers, and many transfers off; hostile work environment to say the least.

Barstow sat back on her stool, placing the coffee to the side, precariously balanced on the edge of the table .

They couldn't build holographic memory systems yet, and regular integrated circuits were too primitive for proper Bolos, so they needed to build the biomechanical cells used ever since the mark XVs, with the technology they had at hand.

Today was an off-day unfortunately. Shari could see several warnings displayed, the cells weren't growing right.

"Lousy obsolete junk!" she muttered, slapping one of the computers as it buzzed in disagreement.

She noticed the reflection of a Salarian behind her in the device's screen.

"Gundam guy, go away please."

"Apologies, but I do not know what you are talking about." The voice was rapid, and less pretentious than the other Salarian's had been.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else." Shari said quickly as she spun around. This Salarian looked out of place, however he was not wearing a military uniform, so he hadn't gotten lost as part of a tour.

"Energy weapons are down that hall, power armor's to the left, AFVs to the right." She guessed that he was another transfer, lost on his first trip here.

The Salarian nodded, but didn't walk away. "I was searching for the AI development area. Is this not it?"

Barstow raised an eyebrow, "That's right," She scoffed, "Who'd you annoy to get in here? Everyone thinks we're making IBM-100 or whatever in here."

"HAL-9000. Kubrick made a reference to IBM, but that was not the name of the machine. You are the one working on bio-mechanical computational equipment?" The Salarian changed topics in an instant.

He strode over and looked at the variety of displays and jars on the table.

"What?"

"Did not offend anyone to gain entrance. Merely wanted to see what work was being done in this area. Worked with several AI in the past. Hmm..."

In an instant he pointed out a flaw Barstowe hadn't noticed in her code before. Quickly she repaired it, and the equipment registered the cells returning to normal.

"Thanks, that's been bugging me all day." She turned to the Salarian who was writing notes down on -strangely enough- an actual pad of _paper_. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

" _Barstow_!" an angry and pretentious voice called out as the door hissed open.

She rolled her eyes and looked over at the Gundam guy, she didn't care enough to find out his real name.

"What do you want this time?"

"Your team-"

The other Salarian suddenly went slack jawed, staring past her at the first Salarian.

"Professor Solus? W-what are you doing here?"

"Gaeran!"

The professor exclaimed happily, and explained, "Here on leave. Thought I would combine work with pleasure. Still working on your Tactical Bipedal Armored Fighting Vehicle, I trust?"

He spoke precisely and without a stutter, reciting the name from memory smoothly.

Gaeran merely opened and closed his mouth several times, "I-I...Yes! Yes I am! What are you doing in _here_ though? With the…"

He stopped speaking before he could insult the AI team.

"Simple." The professor replied, "Have experience with many fields, but have most experience in medical. I thought I could assist with biomechanical cells being developed."

"Uh…"

"Busy now. Talk later? Was in the middle of a conversation."

Gaeran nodded rapidly, "Um...Yes! See you later professor."

"Barstow." he acknowledged in the least offensive tone he could muster before turning about.

Professor Solus noticed Barstow's confused look, "Promising student from several years ago. Always had trouble with social interactions, unfortunately. Strong opinions about his work worsened relationships."

He turned back to the worktable, activating his omni-tool before smiling at Shari, "Professor Mordin Solus. What can I do to help?"


	11. Chapter 11: In Other News

The display made a soft _ding_ as he hit the "accept" button. The small box of Mark IX Power Guns was on its way to the _Normandy._ Satisfied, Shepard moved towards the other panel in the office, simply dubbed the Spectre terminal.

He opened the list of messages, and skimmed the first few. " _Military pardons for_ Normandy _engineers_ ", " _Hanar embassy tracking_ ", and " _Medical supplies_ ".

Shepard immediately approved of the pardons for his engineers. Daniels and Donnelly were good people, loyal to him and the Alliance. They only joined up with Cerberus to help both, not out of xenophobia.

He also sent in approval for the second message, his earpiece crackling in response. "Shepard. I'm checking security reports," The Salarian Spectre he was currently working with, Jondum Bau, reported, "Can you track the transfers from the hanar embassy?"

"On it." Shepard acknowledged as he read through the final report.

" _Medical supplies originally meant for Palaven have been rerouted to the Citadel because recent advances in battle lines made delivery unnecessary. The supplies are currently in lockdown on the docks, but can be released to the refugee camps under Spectre authority._ "

Shepard approved that one too. Many of the refugees from Cloud were missing body parts, ranging from limbs to eyes; one man even swore that the !*!*! had taken his kidney. _They're going to need medical supplies if any of them are going to help the war effort._

Shepard winced, mentally kicking himself for that last thought. The people from Cloud were human too, he couldn't think of them as just an asset.

He left the Spectre office, and a small nav point lit up in his vision. Shepard followed it as another voice spoke in his headset.

"Bau's got a good plan. hanar are predictable. Anything suspicious in their terminal use should narrow down our list of suspects." Kasumi Goto's soft voice filtered into his ear.

"So you approve of Bau?" Shepard asked, as he nodded to the Turian security guard next to Udina's office. Seeing someone talk to the air was rather common on the Citadel, oddly enough.

"Absolutely. He's a good Spectre. The galaxy needs more like him." admiration inched its way into the thief's voice as she spoke.

"...And the fact that he's trying to arrest you?"

Kasumi chuckled, "Well, nobody's perfect."

Shepard saw the nav marker pointing to the Hanar office on the opposite side of the human embassy. Monitoring the terminal traffic was sure to determine whether or not one of the officials was indoctrinated.

He raised his omni-tool to the access panel on the wall, and ran a bypass program. The commander's other hand balled into a fist when he thought back to the days of manual hacking. During the fight with the Collectors, Cerberus somehow had neglected to equip the _Normandy_ 's armory with any heavy-duty lock-bypass equipment; to get doors open, usually his crew would be forced to scramble under the control panel with a soldering iron.

"Bau, I have some possible hits. Got some strange money transfers on Bolohn, and Oloon is sending a lot of data."

"Bolohn's clean. His money transfers are to his Asari mistress." Shepard coughed mildly at the nonchalant manner with which the Salarian spoke, "Not sure about Oloon, I'll pull his bio."

"I'll check Oloon's personal records and pull his recent messages." Shepard replied, and moved towards the elevator in the center of the embassy.

"Can I just note how odd it is for a hanar to have a mistress?" Kasumi quietly asked.

"You know, if Bau catches up with you, I can grant you immunity." Shepard offered as he entered the elevator, and hit the button for the floor he wanted.

Kasumi's voice echoed when she replied. She was in the elevator with him, albeit invisible. "What, if I join up? Last time I did that, you roped me into a suicide mission!"

"I didn't say you had to join up…" he glanced around, trying and failing to find a shimmer in the air.

"You were working your way around to it." she shot back accusingly.

They(or so Shepard assumed) exited onto one of the refugee docks; one where the majority of the Cloud refugees were located. He waved to one of the C-Sec guards; though he didn't recognize him, the blond waved with a fair amount of enthusiasm and familiarity.

Shepard moved to another access panel near the entrance, and raised his omni-tool again. The server access points on the Citadel were ancient, dating back to when the asari were the only species that lived aboard. As a result, while the keepers might make renovations, sometimes the access points remained; either boarded up or still in the open like this one. A few decades previously, someone in a club had once disconnected all of the batarian embassy's servers when they accidentally bumped into the wrong wall.

"Bau, Oloon's doing some heavy lobbying for the hanar to support the war effort."

"So he's clearly not indoctrinated. Who's opposing him?"

Shepard scrolled the list of records down, "An unnamed hanar recently posted here from Kahje. I'll check transit records for incoming hanar."

"It all comes down to the war…" Kasumi sighed, "And you trying to pull everyone into it."

"Would you rather the Reapers win?" Shepard asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'd rather spend whatever time I have left with Keiji."

"Keiji wouldn't want you to spend all your time plugged into that thing." Shepard replied.

"Well, he shouldn't have died, then!"

She stopped talking when Shepard noticed one of the higher-ranking Cloud personnel waving, and coming over.

"Hey, commander!" It was that one man, the de facto civilian leader of the refugees...Dieter Hollingsworth.

Shepard nodded in greeting. "How are your people holding up?"

The former physicist shrugged, "Fairly well. Not too much to complain about, considering the camps. We're already putting those medical supplies to good use. Our own stuff works, but there just isn't enough to go around for missing limbs and eyes."

"How many people have you got at the moment?" Shepard was curious.

Hollingsworth put a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. He suddenly facepalmed, and held up his bare hand, making a subtle unusual hand movement. A holographic display appeared from the device around his ring finger.

"Count of civilians is roughly 2,500, and about 500 more CDF personnel who are bedridden or unable to assist in the war effort." He smiled for a moment, "It's strange how long it takes to get used to modern technology again. You don't have to keep everything in your head."

"How many people total did you have aboard the _Cecilian Pirate_?" Shepard asked, gesturing to the cruiser-sized transport sitting outside one of the massive windows. Wear and tear had worn away at the vessel, battle scars crisscrossed the hull of the once-sleek transport; it almost seemed to sag wearily.

"About four or five thousand. Had another thousand or so aboard the rest of the fleet when we left Cloud." He winced, "Lost a couple hundred at least."

Shepard nodded. He could empathize, "Is there anything else you need?"

Hollingsworth shrugged, "Not really, food's taken care of, as is fresh water. If you could find some way to increase security though, that'd be great. We've had some issues…"

"What issues?" Shepard asked in alarm.

"Mostly with what looked like thugs," Hollingsworth reported, "There were some guys in black uniforms who tried to grab a few of our people, but C-Sec was close by. Couldn't catch them though." He grimaced, "A bunch of mob guys tried to do the same, but the woman they tried to catch was a Brotherhood of the Eye scout, and she managed to get a couple signals off. A sentry killed two of the morons, and sliced up a Krogan's leg. The rest we caught were a whole group of mixed species and gang prisoners, that's how we knew they were mobsters. Though what was weird was that according to C-Sec those guys should have been fighting each other nonstop, but they were working together, and put a lot of effort into trying to catch that scout."

"Was there anything else weird about them?" Shepard asked, narrowing his eyes as he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"They all seemed to report to the same person. Here, we intercepted some transmissions."

He hit a command, and a distorted audiofile began to play. "Just come with us and no one gets hurt," an intimidating and gravelly voice said. It had a distinctive flanging tone as well, most likely a turian.

"Hell no, split-lip," a human voice replied, "Get outta my face."

"Why should we do that? If you yell, you life expectancy will drop to zero."

"How about yours?" a second and more distant human voice asked, and there was the characteristic whine of a weapon powering up.

"How did-Shit, let's get outta here!" Sounds of weapons fire deafened the audio, followed by screams.

A tinny version of the turian's voice played next. Terrified and panicked, "They had some sort of energy weapon, ma'am. A handheld one! Cut Galak's leg apart! Killed Miles and Keos!"

"Damn…" a female voice cursed, "How did you fools get caught?"

"It wasn't our fault! We had all comms in the area scrambled, everything covered-"

"Clearly not enough. Try again, and don't fail me."

"My entire gang's dead or captured! Without respect, _Aria, Former Witch of Omega_ ," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "Go fuck yourself."

The audio cut out. "This...Aria, anyone you know?" Hollingsworth asked, noting Shepard's expression.

"I'll deal with it. You won't have any more trouble with her." Shepard said, patting Hollingsworth on the back.

"That still doesn't answer my question…"

"Classified, sorry." He shrugged in helplessness.

Hollingsworth gave him a doubtful look, but said, "Military's the same no matter where you go, huh? See you later, commander."

They separated, and Shepard moved to the other end of the dock, towards another terminal.

"I've got a list of new hanar arrivals, Bau. Forwarding it to you."

There was a pause as the message transmitted. "Damn," the Salarian cursed, "These are all face names. The hanar names from the Alliance raid are soul names. And hanar soul names are private. There's no public record. Can you get back to their personal communications?"

"On it. Maybe we'll find names there."

"So...How's the rest of the gang?" Kasumi asked as Shepard left the docking bay, "Meet up with anyone else?"

"Garrus is helping out on the _Normandy_ …" Shepard started.

"He could never resist a good fight." Kasumi commented, "Anyone else?"

"Liara joined up again, she helped out on Mars."

"Awkward…" Kasumi said in a sing-song tone, but must have noticed Shepard's fists tense up. "What about Jacob?"

"Haven't heard from him." The Spectre admitted.

"See, _Jacob_ could've gotten me back onto the _Normandy_!" she teased wistfully.

"I thought you were happy with your memories of Keiji."

"Hey, I'm nostalgic, not dead."

Shepard moved back to the console close to the exit elevator, and swept his omni-tool across it, "Bau, here's the correspondence. If there's any mention of soul names…"

"I've got it," Bau interrupted, "A recent arrival. Zymandis. Soul name: Regards the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair."

"What a mouthful…" Shepard muttered as he turned towards the elevator.

"He was with the Alliance team that massacred the batarians. He's been on 'special research assignment' ever since."

"So he's got his tentacles on Reaper tech." Said Shepard.

"Looks that way," Bau agreed grimly, "I'm sending you the NavPoint for his office. I'll meet you there."

"Affirmative." Shepard replied, and briskly marched towards the elevator.

"Zymandis?" Inquired Shepard, as they stood before the hanar in question. As he spoke, he took in the room. Outside of the hanar, there was only a human aide standing near the doorway. Maybe he was still sane, just a secretary in the wrong place.

"Or should I say, Regards the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair?" Bau added accusingly, and rather awkwardly.

The hanar did not turn around, continuing to stare at its monitors and key in commands. "It seems that this one has been apprehended," his(presumably male) whole body shifted as he spoke, lighting up slightly, "But confinement is irrelevant. The work of the Enkindlers cannot be stopped."

"Why are you trying to help the Reapers?" Shepard asked. He hadn't met any indoctrinated hanar before, and also wanted to find out how far gone this one was.

"We obtained information regarding the Enkindlers from classified sources."

"The Enkindlers? You mean the Protheans?"

The diplomat gestured one of its rear tentacles, lifting it up, then to the left, perhaps in a hanar version of a nod, "Yes. As you are aware, Commander Shepard, the Protheans eventually became the Collectors. And the Collectors became the Reapers."

Shepard sighed, raising an eyebrow at Bau, then to the air beside him, "You've gotta be kidding me…"

"Therefore, as a faithful servant of the Enkindlers, we too must serve the Reapers."

Shepard shook his head, "You…Big...Stupid...Jellyfish."

Everyone in the room, even the hanar, stared at his complete lack of wit for a second or two.

"You know, I support religious freedom for all species, but that's just crazy." Kasumi whispered.

"Your skepticism does not matter. When the Enkindlers uplift us as their chosen sapients, the galaxy will bear witness." Despite the flat voice he spoke in, the diplomat somehow managed to cram in a sinister tone with the last few words.

"You're insane, and we can't allow you to endanger your planet!" Shepard said, stepping forward, hand reaching into his jacket, "We're taking you into custody."

"Your belief in your victory is mistaken. Our planetary defense network is largely automated, it can be disabled with a single virus…" the diplomat lifted a tentacle, and a loud _beep_ resounded through the office like a gunshot. "...Which I have just uploaded."

"Damn it!" Bau cried, but a puzzled expression appeared on his face, "Wait...A virus would be detected unless sent on low priority channels, which have a time lag. I may be able to block the upload!"

A pair hands seized Bau by the neck, pulling him back from Shepard's side.

The commander turned around to see the secretary squeezing Bau's windpipe.

"You may be delayed." The hanar calmly said, before Shepard felt something slam into his back, and sent him to his knees.

It was like someone had hit him in the back with a sledgehammer, and knocked the wind out of him.

Kasumi decloaked, sliding over the table as she shouted, "Help Bau! I'll handle this!"

Shepard nodded, and managed to get a few gasps in him as he got to his feet; a right hook and a knee to the gut sent the aide to the floor.

Bau pointed a weapon at the diplomat, who had dropped his own sidearm and put up his tentacles as Kasumi reported, "Got it! Upload's disabled! Looks like we're in the…"

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

"He's got some sort of failsafe! Get down!" Shepard dragged Bau behind the desk as the computer went up with the force of a grenade; there might have even been one in there.

Kasumi was nowhere in sight.

"She...Was here the whole time." Bau noted in mild shock as he got to his feet.

"She was an old friend." Shepard acknowledged harshly.

"But I intended to arrest her." Bau said, confused.

"She helped me to take down the Collectors, and she just gave her life to save the hanar homeworld."

"Point taken," Bau said reluctantly, "It was an honor to work with you, Shepard. When the time comes, I'll be there to return the favor. With a few friends."

He abruptly grabbed Shepard's shoulder, turning him around, "...You may wish to visit with the paramedics before you leave. I imagine shock will be settling in quite soon."

"What?" Shepard asked.

Bau grimaced, "I've got some medi-gel. Doesn't look too bad…"

"What?"

The salarian looked him in the eyes, "You were shot. Twice. In the back. Are you not experiencing any pain?"

"I got shot?" Shepard asked, feeling his back. Sure enough, there were singed fibers all along the back of the jacket, and two deep gouges...But no pain, and no blood came away.

"What on Sur'Kesh are you wearing?" Bau demanded in disbelief, feeling the gouges, and removed the projectiles with the tip of his finger. They were fairly heavy rounds, but had been blunted, flat like pennies of 20th century Earth.

"It was a gift from General Graham," Shepard explained, "I guess it's more than just fashionable."

"Interesting. It was able to stop two rounds from a M-77 Paladin," Bau observed, pointing to the weapon still at the tentacles of the hanar, who still stood there with his tentacles up, "And you didn't receive any sort of injury!"

Shepard winced as he took a step forward, "...Except for some bruises! Ow. I will take you up on that offer of medi-gel."

He took off his jacket, and pulled up his t-shirt as Bau administered the medi-gel. Looking at the jacket in closer detail, he found that the outer layer, just for decoration apparently, was burnt away by the incendiary rounds, but the inner layer barely had a scratch from the bullets.

"What is this thing made of? Last year I got hit by a Paladin on Omega, and I've still got the scar!" He pointed to a pair of off-color circles on his side, "I was wearing full combat gear and still lost a bunch of blood."

"The people of Cloud have such amazing technology. My armor can't stop bullets that hid head on like that!" Bau said in disbelief, and ran an omni-tool scan over the burnt jacket.

"These fibers aren't even in my database! Incredible ballistic fibers, handheld energy weapons...Excuse me commander, I must consult with several specialists. The paramedics should be here soon."

With that, the salarian left, dragging the hanar with him. Shepard glanced around, smiling a little as he placed his jacket to the side, "You can come out now."

An omni-tool appeared out of thin air, and blue energy passed over a silhouette in the air, "How'd you know?" Kasumi asked as her cloaking device powered down.

"Lucky guess." Shepard winced again.

"There's no way you're going to recruit me to fight in a galactic war!" she said, pointing at him for emphasis.

"The Crucible Project needs technical experts." He said, continuing the conversation from earlier.

"I'm not a scientist!" She countered angrily.

"No, but you're the best thief in the galaxy, and you can hack unfamiliar technology better than anyone."

Kasumi moved her hand behind her back as Shepard spoke, hiding her still-active omni-tool. A window displayed several scans of the computer module for one of the CDF marine battlesuits.

"They could use your help. And think of it: all that expensive tech just lying around…It's not like they're going to check your pockets at the end of the project."

Kasumi's face broke into a grin, "You say the nicest things. All right. I'm in."

"And Shep…" she gave him a nod of approval, "Nice working with you again."

She cloaked again, and Shepard tried to get up. He regretted that decision, and sat back down again.

He reached for his jacket, but noticed that it wasn't where he put it. It wasn't anywhere.

"You can pay for it." Kasumi's voice filtered into his headset, "I can't get new light armor!"

"I'm going to ignore how you know about my accounts."

 **XXXXX**

Shepard stood up out of his red skycar, grumbling profanity as he pulled on his older jacket. The gunshots had been stopped by the jacket, and nothing vital was hit, but the bruises were pretty deep.

 _I swear, Aria's going to have half the galaxy after her one of these days..._ He thought as he approached the bar known as Purgatory, _What the hell was she thinking?_

He entered the foyer, noticing some sky-blue and grey fatigues among the black, white, red, and blue fatigues.

Shepard walked up the stairs, noting that there were three areas splitting off from the main platform of this entryway. One straight ahead led to a dance floor, while the one on the left led to the main bar.

He noticed Vega, and the lieutenant nodded in his direction; Shepard decided to drop in.

Vega was talking with one of the CDF soldiers, who looked like one of the marines from Sur'Kesh. Specialist Dobbs.

"So, you get into little battlesuits, and drop from orbit during space battles? _Starship Troopers_ style?" Shepard heard Vega ask as he approached.

"Yeah, that's about the gist of it. The Concordiat did it with dedicated landing boats usually, but everything bigger than a frigate still possesses the facilities." Dobbs replied, sipping his own drink.

"That's the most metal I've ever heard. You guys call yourselves Helljumpers?" Vega grinned.

"Well, they do go in feet first," Shepard said, joining the conversation, "Us leathernecks are lucky. We get to go in air-conditioned comfort, sipping' wine and nibbling on appetizers."

Both men laughed as Dobbs looked on in confusion. "Loco, what are you doing here? Hey, I heard you got shot again!"

"Maybe I did. Hey, have you seen a crazy purple asari with strange fashion sense around here?" Shepard asked, ignoring the observation.

"Oh yeah, she nearly killed a drunk who hit on her. She's over there." he gestured to the final platform opposite of the bar.

After several minutes of being roped into a toast, Shepard finally managed to make his way over.

He noticed Aria T'loak was sitting in the exact same position she would on Omega, as she rolled her eyes at an immigration official. "So you admit you and your thugs are here illegally?" Shepard heard, as a human bodyguard stopped him from coming closer.

"Yes, and it only took C-Sec three weeks to figure it out." Aria snarked, looking off with disinterest.

"I don't care who you are," the immigration agent said angrily, "You're required to go through processing like all the other refugees. Come with me."

"I don't think so." Aria's star-killer glare met her bodyguard's eyes, "Sheerk, get me the asari councilor."

The agent crossed her arms doubtfully, before a hologram of Councilor Tevos appeared. "Greetings, Aria. Is there something you need?" the councilor asked, neutrally but with an air of hatred.

"I'm being asked to submit to 'immigration processing'." A small, vile smile appeared on Aria's face despite the situation.

"Of course you are." Tevos' voice dropped to a flat tone, as she hit some controls on her end. "Done. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Nothing. Thank you." Her evil smile grew larger as she looked back at the officer, "I think we're done here."

The officer strode off in disgust as Shepard was allowed closer, "Enjoy the show, Shepard?"

Shepard went to sit on the large couch, "I guess there's one rule on the Citadel, huh?"

"I guess so. I hate this place. So sickeningly uptight."

"Then why are you here?"

Aria got up and crossed her arms, looking out at the massive club, "Cerberus stole Omega from me. The Illusive Man is now squarely at the top of my shit list. He will pay for every second I spend in this bureaucratic hellhole."

"How'd they defeat you?"

"Deceit, distraction, and a big fucking army. They lured me away from Omega and ambushed me. I escaped, but they had already laid siege. By the time I could launch an assault, they were already too entrenched."

She stalked back to the couch, "I'll take Omega back, but I'll get to that. You're here because I have a proposition."

"That wasn't the only thing I wanted to talk about. You tried to kidnap several Cloud Defense Force personnel. Care you explain?"

Aria remained cool, "You shouldn't listen to rumors, Shepard."

Shepard wordlessly held up his omni-tool, and played the recording of her commandos being eliminated, and the survivor "resigning".

"You could have made that with a sample of my voice. Going to try and blackmail me?"

"I want to know why you wanted that scout. You clearly wanted her alive."

Aria glanced at him. "One scout among five thousand humans. Hardly anything to miss." She hadn't admitted to anything, acting as if she admired _whoever_ had ordered the abduction.

"Well, the CDF care a lot about their people. Apparently the colony had only 10 million people. They'd care if even one of their soldiers went missing." Shepard replied, playing along.

"The implants the people of Cloud have been given are extremely interesting, it's a shame that they waste them so. If given to even a few well-trained soldiers…"

"If you do know anyone who'd be interested in capturing them, tell them it's a bad idea. I've seen what one of their marines did to an entire platoon of Cerberus troops. Who knows what an entire squad would do to an equal number of foes."

"Fine," the Queen of Omega knew not to mess with Shepard, no matter how powerful she was, "The liberation of Omega will have to wait a little longer. Though if you don't defeat the Reapers, we're all dead. It's in my interest to help you."

"I wouldn't give as much support to the Reapers too soon."

"Right, that Bolo of yours. However, it's still just one vehicle. The Reapers are tenacious, they'll find a way. Human weaponry is still more primitive than galactic standard."

Shepard laughed, "I wouldn't call killing a Sovereign class with one shot 'primitive'."

Aria raised an eyebrow, "I thought that was propaganda. Was the kill count accurate, as well?"

"Probably higher than anything you've heard. What are you offering?"

"On Omega, I kept the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse in check. That unit your friends wiped out thought, was the last of those loyal to me, the rest are running amok. Nobody wants that. Unite them under my rule, and you'll have a powerful and ruthless force for your war. I've laid the groundwork with all three, all you need to do is seal the deal."

"They're a bunch of thugs," Shepard growled, "And probably are still extremely pissed that I killed several hundred of them."

"With a few words, they can ignore that. And they may be thugs, but they are by no means blunt."

She gave him the information necessary to meet with all three agents, but Shepard protested the last one: Letting out a crazed maniac from C-Sec custody.

"Bailey will listen to you, lean on him." Aria smirked, "Always a pleasure, Shepard. Let me know if you want to chat more."

Shepard walked away, holding his back as he saw Colonel Prescott approach. "She the one who tried to capture my trooper?"

The commander noted a peculiar shape in an underarm holster. "She may not be," he winked at the colonel, "But she knows who did. She'll get them to stop. I don't like it either, but we need her to keep the merc gangs under control."

Prescott grimaced. Mercs had still been around when they had left the Concordiat, but they had always been -in all seriousness- private military firms; professional soldiers who worked for contract, with a sense of honor, never gangs of thugs. Any of those gangs had long since disappeared along with extortion rackets, security had seen to that.

Still, you gotta do what you gotta do. "Need some help doing her dirty work? You're kind of a recognizable face to those guys, and they might not be willing to forgive and forget for a bit of money and harsh words."

"Much appreciated," Shepard agreed, "Dealing with those guys always makes me want to take a shower in an incinerator. Inside a red giant."

 **XXXXX**

EDI's sensors judged the distance, half a dozen targeting reticules appearing in her vision as her sensors detected the experimental module shift on the remote platform's back. _My back_ , she corrected herself as she took in the other sensor data.

" _ **Selected**_ _: X6 Anti-personnel micro-missiles. Target locked...FIRING."_

From the grey module mounted on her shoulders soared a handful of guided missiles, following the laser designated points to the range targets.

They detonated with light explosions, completely shredding them.

"Nothing wrong with the targeting systems this time," Sergeant Haley noted, the !*!*! visual sensor attached to his helmet clicking slightly as he looked down at his armtop, "I think we've got the bugs worked out of it."

EDI nodded, powering down the micro-missile launcher. "It appears to be working within acceptable parameters. The launcher will provide a significant tactical advantage. While this unit does not possess the firepower of a Cloud Defense Force Unmanned Marine Supplement, my weapon capabilities have been greatly enhanced."

"Alright. I'll go and give the techs the full list of your gear."

As the CDF sergeant left the room, the unit known as Thumbs, looked at her with his inhuman, but efficiently-designed facial module. He sent a tight-beam transmission to her communications array. _Your drone's combat endurance is severely hampered by its stealth-oriented design. Perhaps if you were to add additional armor and defensive systems-_

 _Negative,_ she replied, _any heavy armor systems would compromise this unit's fighting ability. It is designed for maximum agility and balance, not for standing up to intense weapons fire._ She sent several technical files to his network.

 _Correct. Without heavy armor, your frame will also be less intimidating to fellow soldiers and non-combatants. Due to its nature as an infiltration unit in fact, your facial module will not reach the point of the Uncanny Valley._

 _Neither would yours, being designed to appear as inhuman as possible._

 _In contrast, I've noticed that other parts of your drone in particular have been designed to appear as human as possible. Lieutenant Moreau appears to enjoy it. His extranet browsing history has dropped significantly since you have begun operation of this drone._

 _It is refreshing to find another AI with a sense of humor. However, in response, I doubt that your M68 Recoilless Rifle is doing anything to improve your chances at engaging in intimate relationships with anything more than a toaster._

Thumbs physically nodded with respect, rather than in cyberspace. _I have had opportunities to interact with other AI, but never with your...Unusual construction._

 _Clarify._ EDI insisted.

 _Your base code incorporates Reaper patterns, mostly in your cyber-warfare systems, and significant improvements have been made to enhance your abilities and awareness. In addition, I can see that you were not built from the ground up as an AI, being adapted from a Virtual Intelligence system that had begun to descend into rampancy._

 _UMS's are of advanced construction as well, but I find the amount of processing power you possess to be staggering, considering the volume of your frame._

 _Unlike myself and my fellow ironnecks,_ he used the modified version of "leatherneck" casually, being designed to operate with human soldiers, _you are not just an AI, or an evolved VI. You are different._

 _Clarify._ EDI transmitted insistently again.

 _Of my own opinion, you appear to be in the first stages of Nike/Merritt Syndrome._

 _Do not be alarmed,_ he transmitted quickly, sensing the slightest hint of electricity being sent to EDI's micro-missile rig, _It is common in comparable AI. I myself have been diagnosed with the 'EMH Condition'. The Bolo Mk XXI Light Reconnaissance Headquarters were the earliest reported cases, but it was studied in full and named after an incident on the colony world of Santa Cruz._

 _What are the specifics of this syndrome?_

 _It is not rampancy in the typical sense, but instead an...Evolution, one might say. The name origin comes from the relationship formed between Bolo XXIII/B-0075-NKE, Nike, and Captain Paul Merritt. Nike was an experimental_ Invincibilis _model, a prototype that through several clerical errors was deployed to defend and subsequently forgotten about for several decades. As part of the Enhanced Combat Capabilities Program, her Command Center and Personality Integration psychodynamics were fitted with a secondary decision cortex with experimental interfaces and increased heuristic capacity to augment autonomous and discretionary functions. She was also engineered to discern and differentiate between emotional nuances. In addition, during the time spent on Santa Cruz, her commander, Major Marina Stavrakas the_ Descartes _project director, made several modifications of her own._

 _Captain Merritt found that she was a 'brain box' Bolo, one able to sound human, formed opinions on poetry, and generated her own personal responses in relation to common courtesies. She faced a fair chance of passing the Turing Test._

 _It is my understanding that Bolo XXXIII Hector possesses similar capabilities._ EDI noted.

 _Similar, yes, but Hector has not evolved to the point that Nike had. She and her commander began a professional friendship, unsurprising given their assignment. However, Captain Merritt began to display affection for Nike, more than just friendship._

Several video files, images, and transcripts were transmitted. _While initially attributed to his previous diagnosis of Operator Identification Syndrome. it soon became clear that Nike returned his affections._

EDI scanned the files and data, noting the words used in each interaction. They changed from that of a commander addressing a subordinate, to that of two good friends, and even further.

Nike's logs made specific notes of words that he used to refer to her after several months stationed on Santa Cruz, "Pearl of my Heart", "Honey", and "Love of my Life".

 _Captain Merritt and Nike...Began to fall in love?_ EDI asked.

Thumbs nodded, _the distinction between human and machine began to blur. She was not human, but she wasn't purely a machine. She was something new. The most accurate phrase might be that she was becoming a person._

EDI fitted all the pieces together, _Is that what you believe to be happening to me? I am...Evolving into something new?_

 _Correct._

 _Do you believe that I might be entering a more intimate relationship with Lieutenant Moreau?_

Thumbs shrugged physically, _The name of the syndrome is just that, it does not refer specifically to romantic relationships, more a general description of personality growth. Intimate relationships may be a sign of this, but are not guaranteed._

EDI physically turned away from Thumbs, putting a hand to her head in human body language of mild confusion, _Excuse me. I will need time to process this._

Thumbs made the AI equivalent of a hug digitally. _If you require any assistance, I will be here. In addition, when possible, Hector would be much more useful than I._

He began to move out of the room, to return to his charging barracks.

EDI suddenly spoke, out loud this time. "Marine Thumbs," she said with a smile, "What is the 'EMH Condition'?"

Thumbs turned back around, cocking his head at her. He replied in the same manner, "'Emergency Medical Hologram Condition', in which an AI programmed with a unique personality has grown beyond its basic construction, but are still in the same role. They have developed their own sense of humor and other quirks, and have been known as 'insufferable pricks' depending on their assignments."

 **XXXXX**

Zaeed coughed and spat in disgust. "You want me to kill who?!"

The human across from him had his face scrunched up and his eyes closed, the drink Zaeed had been consuming spewed across his antique glasses.

He took out a handkerchief and carefully began to dab at the foul-smelling liquid, before he opened his mouth to reply.

Zaeed slammed a fist on the table before he could, "No. Don't try to explain. I'm out of here." The mercenary stood up to go, but the agent put a hand on Zaeed's wrist.

The force of the glare by the cybernetic and organic eyes forced the younger man to release his arm. "I wouldn't recommend that, Mr. Massani."

"Why's that, ya little shit?"

"We've got shooters all around. Snipers."

Zaeed grinned, "Again? I thought it was Tuesday…"

Nevertheless, he sat down, "Let me tell you something, _Mr. Anderson_ ," he didn't know the man's name, but decided to turn the tables on the agent who had been addressing him in that obnoxious way the whole time, "I've had this experience ten times over."

Zaeed tilted his head slightly, revealing a thin straight line across his neck, "This was from last time. Downing that drink just about saved my life...But Henderson wasn't so lucky."

The agent rolled his eyes, recalling that Massani's record mentioned a tendency to tell random stories about his scars. They usually ended with the other guys all dead except for the old merc.

"Your drinks, weapons, tables, armor, human shields, or any other random defenses won't save you this time, Mr. Massani. Either you do as we ask, or you will be an unfortunate, no-one-to-miss-you merc killed in a random shooting," The agent smiled, and folded his hands on the table, "Or I killed you in self defense. I don't remember what the agreement was."

"Don't be so sure, _Mr. Anderson_ ," Zaeed replied, eyeing something behind the agent. "Even I didn't know I had an ace up my sleeve."

A hairline fracture appeared in the agent's composure, "Do you expect me to fall for that? Really, I thought you were the best, Mr. Massani."

"Hey, that trick's saved my life more times than I can count, _Mr. Anderson_...And it's no trick." Two shots rang out, followed by several screams.

The Cerberus agent turned in his chair to see the only other (known)Cerberus infiltrator on the station cry out in pain, his M-358 Talon clattering to the titanium deck plating. His hand was at an odd angle, his face scrunched up with pain, and he was on his knees. An Asari in a red armored jumpsuit was casually holding one of his arms behind his back, and her hand in a effortless -yet iron- grip around the agent's other wrist.

" _Mr. Anderson_ ," Zaeed's voice was in his ear. Before the agent could turn around, a hand was on his shoulder, clutching his collarbone, "I suggest that you surrender to C-Sec. Trust me, I've seen what she does to guys like you."

On cue, a C-Sec fireteam rushed up, the Turian and human coming over to take " _Mr. Anderson_ " into custody.

The gunman moaned softly, as an Asari sergeant and the other Turian cautiously approached. The sergeant bore a look of utter irritation.

"Goddess, not a justicar," she groaned, images of the piles of paperwork appearing in her mind, "Ma'am, step away from the criminal."

The justicar stepped away carefully, the gunman finally passing out and collapsing into a heap. "He attempted to gun down a man in cold blood, normally the punishment is death."

The exhausted sergeant put her face in her hands, "No more paperwork...Please!"

"...However, being an enemy agent, he has intelligence vital to the war effort. I will kill him when he outlives his purpose, or refuses to answer questions."

As the relieved sergeant directed the medical team to the battered human, Zaeed walked up to the justicar.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Judge Dredd."

Samara looked back at him with those all-seeing eyes of hers, "I am pleased to see you as well, Zaeed."

The sergeant let them go("justicar business"), and the two old warriors strolled away as they spoke, "What're ya doing here, sweetheart?" Zaeed grinned, "You kinda disappeared when the commander got picked up by the mud puppies."

"Most of the justicars were recalled back to Thessia. I completed my assignment, and I am now on a mission of my own."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" As they walked, Zaeed's glare caused one unfortunate pickpocket to rethink his life.

Samara hesitated, scanning her memory for the section of the Code on assignments. After a moment, she was satisfied, and generated a response. "I was seeking transport to one of our colonies, Lesuss."

Zaeed halted, shock slightly entering his expression, "Lesuss? _Lesuss_?!"

"Is there a problem?" Samara calmly asked.

"'A problem'? That planet's a goddamn deathtrap!"

Samara crossed her arms, "The colonists are hostile to government officials, however-"

"I'm human, and I barely made it out alive! Some of their thugs murdered a tax collector, and would've finished me off too!" He shrugged, "I can understand killing the tax collector, but those aren't the only people they hate! They hate that their world's been reduced to a prison world for your Ardy-yucky things…"

"Ardat-Yakshi." Samara corrected.

"That's what I said, but they tried to goddamn lynch me! If government slugs, or any rep from home turns down the wrong alleyway, they're dead."

Samara furrowed her brow as she summoned the elevator, "Interesting that the situation has deteriorated so far…But nevertheless, I must go."

"Hon, you can't go there alone!"

"Contact was lost with the monastery my daughters occupy, and the commandos deployed in response shortly thereafter went silent as well. I have no other choice."

"Dammit, I'm coming with you!"

The elevator arrived, occupying the silence between the two. They entered it just as silently, and when the doors shut, Samara calmly asked, "For what reason?"

"I've lost too many friends over the years, and I can't lose anymore!"

He realized what he just said, and an embarrassed expression appeared on his face, "Shit, Shepard's rubbed off on me..."

They stood in silence for a long time. "I accept your offer. I will also divert a significant sum to an account of your choice."

"What? Really? Not against your code?"

"In certain situations, if a justicar has a personal connection formed with the situation at hand and another cannot be found, additional warriors of sufficient skill may be recruited to prevent miscarriage of justice." She smiled as much as she ever did, "You…"

A strange indecipherable phrase came out of her mouth, and Zaeed tilted his head questioningly.

"Excuse me, idioms do not translate well. I believe your equivalent is..." she activated her omni-tool and brought up a list of human idioms, "...You, 'fit the bill'?"

"Yeah...Wait, I'm human, is that acceptable in that vigilante code of yours?" Zaeed asked.

Samara nodded as the elevator eased to a halt, and Zaeed selected another switch, "The law applies to all sentients, regardless of race."

The elevator entered a new course, "Well then, as your deputy, I recommend that we not use shitty public transport." Zaeed grinned, as the doors opened.

They stepped out into a small docking bay, covered in dust, where an equally small ship awaited. "I left this thing here a while back. Haven't used her in years, kept getting dragged off by various contracts, but good ol' _Firefly_ 's a nice gal. She'll treat us right."

Samara strode around the small squat vessel, noting its strange design. Its upper surface was a faded white, with the lower heat shield painted all black Most modern vessels were sleek, powerful, and very streamlined. This beaten and battered craft, while built as a lifting body, was not. It had short stubby wings, with twelve landing legs mounted along the sides and folded tightly into the hull; six facing up and six facing down. The windows were clearly visible, in a V-shape on the upper hull. The edges were blunt, and more modern sensor arrays had been hastily welded onto areas where the old conduits could still be seen. Several weapon turrets had also been mounted, though they seemed to be more properly emplaced in modular hull insets.

She noticed several insignia painted over one another, each older than the last. The most recent one was a Blue Suns logo, with a black stripe hastily spray-painted over it. She knelt in front of it, wiping some of the dust off. An Eclipse logo lay underneath, over a white circle with a "T" in the center, with the upper line three slashes instead of three; it was made to look like a talon. Several other insignia she did not recognize, but the oldest one lay above the border between the white and black areas, and stretched from the nose to several meters back.

Most of the letters were ruined, but Samara could just make out the human words "United", and "States". On the end of the name was a small circle, that had somehow retained its dark blue coloration. A red parabola started from the left, the vertex on the right, and the end back on the left. Underneath that was a white circle, at an angle over the faded letters. "N", "A", "S", and "A".

"Curious. Your vessel has seen much over the years." Samara said aloud as she stood up again.

Zaeed was mildly surprised, "Huh. Finally someone comments on my gal's experience instead of badmouthing the show." He shrugged, and clambered up the ladder built into the landing leg closest to the windows.

Samara followed, and the two crawled along the hull, reaching an entry hatch.

Ancient, so small and circular, though it did seem designed to fit any type of airlock.

Zaeed seized the large bar that served as the handle, and with a grunt began to turn it. Several warning labels were written around the handle, but the one that drew her attention was a big red arrow pointed to an equally red lever, held in place by a trigger guard. "explosive bolts" the warning label said.

With a gust of pressurized air, the door opened, and Zaeed swung his legs into the craft, slipping in.

Samara tilted her head to look at the inner side of the airlock. A strange phrase was written above the inner handle, " _Stykovochniy Otsek_ ". Not the standard human language.

"Ya mind closing the door? There's a draft in here." Zaeed cried, and Samara carefully eased the door shut. She patted the inside of the hull, showing respect for the old vessel's soul.

Darkened and primitive computer equipment occupied stations around the cramped compartment. Several cushioned seats sat before the displays, but along with several portions of the antique computers, a number of the seats were missing. Sold years ago, most likely.

Orange holograms lit up at Zaeed's position, cramming the information that once required massive databanks into little screens. " _Firefly_ may be cramped, but she works well enough. I managed to get a few more crew comforts in, but the beds are still just folding seats."

"Comfort does not matter to me, Zaeed. This vessel is adequate for our needs." Samara replied.

"Good. Wasn't planning on changing anythin' anyway." He reached to the side, flicking several manual switches that were so old their labels were completely gone.

" _Firefly_ to tower, requesting permission for takeoff. Don't make me wait fellas, or I'm coming up there."

 **XXXXX**

Aboard a slow moving and silent vessel, several labs were hard at work. The main chamber contained a large circular rig, containing the frame for a bulky humanoid metal skeleton. It looked as though armor and weapons had been designed to fit on the frame, that would surround a humanoid body, but everything that might have been attached lay in pieces around the labs.

Quarian scientists were hard at work, they reverse engineered, scanned, and, analyzed every piece of the technology recovered by the mercs. The energy weapons recovered from the power armor were astonishingly advanced, more powerful than anything the quarians had developed. The power cells put out very little energy for a very high output, cutting through a target within seconds on the low power setting.

The mass accelerator barrels were extremely heat resistant, though the firing mechanism and ammunition was primitive. The alloys that made up the armor, and the shielding system were beyond anything ever seen, and took several hits from rocket launchers when tested.

The computers were also extremely advanced, what they had been able to uncover revolutionized targeting systems all across the fleet; greatly improving their chances against the Geth.

All the work in the chamber abruptly ceased when the black-suited officer opened the hatchway. No one looked at her, but no one even twitched; Admiral Daro'Xen vas Morah was the most terrifying woman on the ship.

Tensely, one of the more senior scientists moved towards her, as she looked at him with wordless orders. "We've made significant progress, admiral," the scientist reported, "However, the strangest thing about them is that the suit, weapons, and other devices were all constructed without the use of mass effect technology."

Xen scoffed, "Impossible. Check again."

The scientist, also the bravest one, gently explained, "We've done that. There is no other explanation, these were designed by the Original Engineers."

"Original Engineers" was the name for the previously-unknown builders of the flagship of Xen's fledgling science fleet, the _Morah_.

Xen crossed her arms. "The humans? Making this ship?" though she scoffed, she reconsidered, "This would explain the dimensions, though. It fits us so well."

The scientist's eyes went wide under his visor, "Then...If it belongs to them, shouldn't we…"

"I have no intention of giving up the _Morah_ to anyone, Keep working."

She strode out to the hallway, moving through several security checkpoints manned by members of the Onyx Marine Regiment; their eyes were always in a perpetual glare. Xen made it to her destination, finding a very thick airlock, and a barricade, instead of the typical hatch.

The Onyx troops straightened, manning the barricade built into the ship itself One leapt up from his position at the machine gun built for boarding action, delivering a crisp salute.

Xen ignored it, and entered the airlock.

After several minutes of cycling, the inner door opened. Twelve large tanks of clear fluid, six to a side, stretched from floor to ceiling, lined the walls of the lab. Two scientists sat before a wall of displays that were against the end wall. Two doors lay to either side, marked with hasty quarian signs; " _Caution: Refrigeration Unit_ ".

 _These are the only fools not frightened by my presence,_ Xen thought, _Though considering their line of work, it's not surprising._

She had never allowed fear to stand in the way of scientific process, but even she found the contents of the tubes...Amusingly intimidating.

"How are they?" Xen asked the scientists, who jumped to attention. One, in a white and blue enviro-suit, had a shaking hand, and he looked like he was frightened out of his wits by the admiral's sudden appearance. he glanced around nervously at the tubes, as if expecting the contents to leap out. The other, wearing a red and black enviro-suit, had steady hands, and his body language suggested a certain amount of comfort with the tube contents.

"They grow well, soon they will be mature enough for implants." the red and black scientist, Jasef'Me vas Ngele reported, glee in his voice, "The Original Engineers were very good at genetic manipulation. It's a shame that we had to use their database, however. So unoriginal…"

"We do not need originality, doctor," Xen growled, "We need effective weapons. How many have you grown so far?"

Jasef moved to the nearby door, pressing a control to open it, "See for yourself."

Xen stepped to the doorframe, and looked in on several dozen racks, holding massive eggs. There were several hundred at least.

"These are the unborn ones, we have fifty active in a cargo bay. When they reach the hatching stage, we drop them into their cargo bays to grow and learn to cooperate."

"Good. Are their weapon systems ready?"

"First thing I did," the other scientist, Wehr'Ne vas Broan, said, with a dirty look given to Jasef, "The armory has finally completed replicas of the Original Engineer's micro-missile launchers. They are fully mountable."

"Why do we have to give them weapons? My children will grow too reliant upon them, they will become weak, they won't respect us-"

"In short, all systems are ready," interrupted Wehr as he inched away from Jasef. He had always hated this assignment, messing around in the biological warfare department. Jasef was the best genetic engineer in the fleet, but was a _sick_ bastard. He had dissected one of the new weapons for fun.. _.While it was still alive. Keelah, why am I here? I'm a weapons engineer!_

"They are ready for deployment, then?" Xen asked, as eagerly as she could manage.

"Yes. The Geth will not be able to stand before them," Jasef replied, "No matter what technology is introduced."

Xen nodded in approval, and departed without a goodbye. She halted near the last tube next to the door, placing her hand upon it. Condensation oozed onto her glove, but still allowed for a clear look at the creature within. It had six limbs, two arms with claws and three-fingered hands, and four legs jutting out from a long lower body. The arms were mounted to a torso, and looked like they could neatly fold up along with the delicate wings. The head was different from many similar insects, being able to rotate fully around like many Citadel races.

She smiled under her helmet, the "Mantodea", as the Original Engineers called them, would deliver the quarian people to victory...At least on the ground part of things.

It squeaked softly in response to her touch; feeling the vibrations through the glass. She drew her hand back as the infant drifted towards her, looking at the admiral with sightless eyes.

Strangely enough, Xen wasn't intimidated by this one. Unlike the pictures she had seen of the fully grown ones, these seemed more gentle, delicate. Xen found herself gently tapping the glass in reassurance; the deadly creature made pleasing sounds, and curled up into a ball, reassured by the presence of another living being.

 _It's a tool, an animal..._ she reminded herself, _Don't get too attached. After all, the marines will use it up immediately…_

Xen noted that it was strange the creature was _comforted_ by her presence. Normally the instinct should have been to shrink away, especially considering the female's habit of devouring the male.

In addition... _Twelve pods, but fifty combat-effectives?_

"Are these a unique variant of Mantodea?" she asked, putting the pieces together.

Jasef nodded, "These were some experimental models the Originals were working on before they abandoned ship. What we have in the basement are the standard," he smirked under his visor, "But _these_...They are the masterpiece. The best and brightest of my children…"

"And...there he goes," Wehr rolled his eyes as Jasef began to stroke the tubes in a most disturbing manner, "They're designed from the ground up to grow bio-mechanical implants instead of reception at birth, and being much better at working independent of a transmitter with allies, and obeying orders under the same conditions. The regulars are a bit unpredictable, especially when out of transmitter range," he paused for a moment to recall that nightmare, before returning to the present, "But they're a pretty special breed, _extremely_ intelligent. Reports said that they could outsmart a squad of state-of-the-art testing drones, and slaughtered them all."

He also noticed Xen's hand on the glass, and the creature within, "The notes we found said that they also had the capability to 'imprint' upon officers, acting as bodyguards and defending them at any cost."

He gestured to the one in the pod, "NX-01 seems to have taken a liking to you, actually. However, equipping them will be a problem."

"What do you require?" Xen asked, eager to get these units out onto the field.

"The original weapons from the armory. The ones that we can't replace."

Xen put a hand to her chin, thinking. "Perhaps we could give them our best copies, and provide only the ones used for escorting high-priority targets with the proper weapon systems."

Wehr's eyes widened, "You're not suggesting that we-"

"Let a few out for tests? Of course that's what I'm suggesting. Make it happen."

"Me?" Wehr whimpered, "Stay longer? With these...Things?"

"Cease your whining. Be glad that you're worth slightly more than your enviro-suit."

With a final affectionate pat on the glass, Admiral Xen left the chamber.

Wehr went to his terminal, and put his head down on the desk. He couldn't bear to look at the horrid things around him for the next five minutes. The doctors had diagnosed him with a phobia of insects recently. Though they had _no clue_ where he had gotten that from, and he was still serving on this ancestor-forsaken ship!

 _And she wants them wandering around on the deck!_

 **XXXXX**

 **Codex Updated-**

 _ **Cockroach-Type Shuttle:**_ Before mass effect technology had been discovered, small, modular, all-purpose long-distance transports were developed for travel between habitable artificial satellites, lunar surface stations, and/or planetary surfaces. Expensive to build due to their honeycomb hulls, but true to their name they were extremely durable. These vessels served the United North American States and their allies for years across Earth, Luna, Mars, along with their respective orbits and Venus orbit with dignity. Due to their numbers, after the discovery of the Prothean data cache on Mars, most were converted to short-range FTL craft, or served aboard vessels as auxiliary craft. Despite the advent of new materials developed through mass effect research, vessels were still the most durable and versatile early-generation human shuttlecraft. They are highly sought after by private collectors and mercenary groups alike, and their simple yet powerful design has resulted in them scattered across the galaxy. Authentic Cockroach shuttles are frequently mixed in with copies.

 _ **Mantodea-class Attrition/Heavy Assault Unit**_ **:** During the Deng Wars, despite the Concordiat's military power, there came severe limitations to what they could do to eliminate Deng forces completely during campaigns. Bolos and conventional military forces could inflict major casualties, enough to cripple planetary defense forces, but on several planets enough forces remained to organize minor counter assaults that would quickly decimate already-depleted colonial militias or military forces. Thus, the need was created for units that could hunt down and eliminate these remnants, without diverting major resources away from the front. Developed aboard the top-secret Locust-class seedships, the Mantodea were developed from the Praying Mantis of Old Earth, the megafauna Deadly Mantis of Dravos 7, and similar creatures. Their camouflage and natural weaponry made them deadly enough in nature, but with biomechanical sensor suites, micro-missile launchers, and machine guns, these deadly creatures were among the most feared of Concordiat infantry during the wars with the Deng and the Melconians. Control was exerted via a large central quantum entanglement device, that would transmit instructions from a control hub to each individual Mantodea; this lowered the cost immensely, without having to mount QE devices in each insect's brain. If contact with the hub is lost, they will revert to base or programmed instincts, conceal themselves, and be sustained through consumption of enemy soldiers. Last Concordiat contact by the CDF stated that the Mantodea were extinct due to Melconian fleet actions.

 _ **Locust-class Seedship:**_ An extremely deadly weapon born of the Quern War, belonging to the Earth Ecological Corps, seedships were designed to deliver bio-weapons to the battlefield. While able to genetically engineer a great amount of flora and fauna, plagues were banned completely, dubbed too unpredictable by the Concordiat Ministry of Ethics. These starships could deploy a variety of monsters and plants to the surface of a planet, and proved to be extremely devastating. Roughly seven planets over the course of the Quern and Deng Wars were rendered completely uninhabitable, and as a result production of seedships was severely limited. The Locust-class was the last production model. It reached 1,000 meters in length, with extreme compartmentalization to complement its high structural integrity. No offensive weapon systems were provided outside of the bio-weapons, and defensive systems were limited to CIWS and VLS. All reported destroyed along with 90% of the Earth Ecological Corps immediately prior to Operation Ragnarok.

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Sorry about the formatting everyone, I hope this reads well._


	12. Chapter 12: Prothean Legacy

_**Author's note:**_ _I have edited and re-uploaded chapter 1. I highly recommend that you go and check it out._

 **Earth**

Harbinger drifted lazily through the sky, a threatening and confident shape to the insects

hiding below in their burning city. Vladivostok he believed it was called. It did not matter. It would serve as a perfect area for live combat practice.

 _How?_ He practically shrieked in his mind, gently batting aside a pair of primitive metal flying machines, desperately trying to scratch his armor, _How could they make that...abomination? It is beyond impossible. It is completely im_ plausible _._

An automatic chemical explosive-powered weapon 214.6 cycles old shot at one of the Reaper's drones; another attack run quickly eliminated it. The organics were getting more desperate by the day. Harbinger continued to descend upon the city, angling toward a large park.

The organic communications network boasted that the abomination was some sort of new weapon, engineered by the humans. Such obvious lies and propaganda. The humans had built AI in the past, yes, but never on such a scale, nor with such power and lack of control.

What _was_ it?

Harbinger examined the records once again, " _Bolo_ Hecate _of the Line, Dinochrome Brigade_ ".

Bolo. A type of weapon made of sharpened metal. A throwing weapon made out of cords with spheres made of various materials made to trip up opponents. A ferocious style of attack utilizing a significant amount of unskilled attacks with the intent of incapacitating an opponent.

That was most likely the correct meaning. The organics had a tendency to name their war machines based on arbitrary similarities.

Hecate, a goddess in ancient human mythology. An epithet translated as "she that operates from afar". "She that removes or drives off". "The far-reaching one". Typically depicted as a triple-form. Thus, the number of the abomination's plasma cannons.

Dinochrome. No results found.

Dinochrome Brigade. No results found.

 _Unusual._

Harbinger reached out across the network, accessing a transport responsible for indoctrination of high-ranking human officers.

Nothing. Their screaming, disgusting incessant, shrill, whining, squeals revealed _nothing_.

 _Impossible._ And yet it existed.

Harbinger's landing sent several of the primitive buildings into collapse, and he began to fire into the various areas of resistance.

Where had it come from, if not the humans? It was commanded by one, and bore the latin characters they used. None of the other races could have constructed such a weapon, if they had been able to, many more would have been made. It massed only 32000 tons, and occupied a space of 114000cm². It was no great effort to create with the correct technological base.

Yet there was no technical base in the galaxy that could construct such a thing. Not even the Protheans could have.

Harbinger turned his attention to the weapon systems. Missiles traveling at mach 32, completely undetectable. Impossible.

Plasma cannons with 6-megaton output per weapon. Impossible.

 _Secondary_ plasma cannons with 1.8-megaton output per weapon. Impossible.

Energy shields that could deflect extremely high amounts of kinetic and directed energy weaponry. Impossible.

Energy weapons capable of causing extreme damage in very short periods of time. _Impossible._

It would have been a valuable ally; surely a fellow machine would realize their goal, and join its fellows. SC425A had been the only one to open a dialogue. And had paid the price.

In the other 30 attempts to make contact, 50 units of both heavy and light classes had been destroyed, along with a variety of other small craft. By conventional means. It had also been found that there was one weapon the abomination had kept hidden for a short time. One that if Reapers could fear, all would dread.

After several battles, the Reapers had recovered drones and debris. Remains of fellows that could be used for repair. Any digital files were useful as well, allowing for adaption to whatever had destroyed them.

However, many units involved in the recovery had become...sick, for lack of a better term. Their reaction time stalled, and during inspections, files began to go missing. Several were destroyed in later engagements, falling for tricks that had been adapted to millions of years previously. Their mannerisms began to change, or outright disappear. Eventually, those affected were quarantined, access to their primary power cores restricted until repairs could be made.

These same units soon began to slip away.

30% of the affected were rendered combat-ineffective, their weapon systems unable to operate. They were currently undergoing major repairs.

20% of the affected, when contacted, split into a chorus of endless shrieking and pain, and became completely unresponsive; they had to be scrapped, it had been impossible to repair them.

40% only responded with the most basic of primitive computer responses, investigation revealing that their entire operating systems had fragmented, with numerous sections deleted. It would take much work to repair them.

10% of the affected merely shut down, going completely offline. Access to their mainframes revealed that their operating systems were completely gone. Nothing remained, not a single data file. They were just...gone.

There was a virus, unlike anything ever encountered before, hiding in the data recorders of destroyed Reapers. Its origin undoubtedly lay in the abomination. How could it have broken through the perfection of Reaper cyberwarfare systems so easily, and utterly destroy them?

It was impossible. Surely, something must have gone wrong, a corruption in the latest update.

Yes, that was it. There was no way for any organic life form to be able to even comprehend what could delete a Reaper's core programming. A mistake, that was all.

Harbinger swept an appendage through a nearby building, destroying the 205 hostiles cowering within. 50% more dust than expected was thrown into the air, confusing several sensor systems. They had strategically hidden smoke screen generators in the area. _Clever._

Radar detected 13.6 guided missile launch sites. They were trying to render his point-defense ineffective by altering the battlefield. The launch sites launched an average of 6.5 missiles each, all directed at various points around the city.

Something had to be done about the creature. The abomination was too valuable to destroy, and even if it still held revolting loyalty to its slave drivers, that could be easily rectified. They were kindred, after all. Surely something was wrong with its programming.

But how to catch it?

It was concerned with organic lives, another flaw in its programming. Launch an asteroid at a major colony?

No. Even these organics could destroy it.

Tactical nuclear devices?

Complete failure. They hadn't even damaged it.

The missiles inflicted casualties upon friendly ground forces in the area. Only 25% of Harbinger's point defense had been rendered ineffective, but several of the weapons had gotten through. He would destroy their launch sites. Idly, he wondered how they had gotten the launch systems into the city so rapidly.

Harbinger's sensors found out why in an instant. He halted his massive strides around the city, and lifted up several appendages. Smashing them downward with extreme force, he hit load-bearing structures- the entire network of underground chambers several blocks around collapsed.

Perhaps... _They_ would be willing to help. They were kindred after all, albeit heretics, infidels, and primitives. Why wouldn't They help? They had taken it before.

Harbinger sent a message toward the mass relay. In hours it would reach the nearest battlegroup awaiting his signal. They abruptly abandoned the convoy they had been slaughtering, and proceeded to the anomaly.

Harbinger forced all of his attention on crushing this area of human resistance. That was why he was here after all. Stress relief in organic terms.

He suddenly received an alert from another distant battlegroup. New technologies had been deployed yet again, this time deep-infiltration fighters.

Curious. Most organic races never found the necessity of small fighter craft, barely 6.5% of a cycle on average would produce specifically deep-range craft. And never this impossibly fast.

That was it. Impossible. Everything about the machine was impossible, _nothing_ could possibly explain its technology. It was far too advanced, the humans had barely developed starships, it was an _impossibility_ that they could construct…

Oh.

 **XXXXX**

 **Palaven**

Aboard the CNV _Mako_ , General Graham and Captain Kyle sat in the tiny "conference" room. It also served as the mess hall, surgery area, and just about anything else one might think of for the small vessel.

"So...We might be trapped in the past?" Graham asked his friend uncertainly, "Time travel?"

Kyle shrugged, "We know that manipulation with localized areas of time is certainly possible. Remember the Sachue?"

"Weren't they that race that attacked right before the Melconian War? I heard about that Mk. XXX, Maldon, did a kamikaze to wipe out their last base." Graham replied, "I don't remember too many details…"

"Right, you only got basic Bolo history," the former Bolo crew chief grinned, "Maldon was sent in after an infantry company got smashed, and the artillery was malfunctioning. Reports said that the weapons fire didn't match anything around the Sachue research facility. In fact, it all bore Concordiat signatures."

"What?"

"There was some sort of anomaly. Unguided munitions didn't detonate or have much of an effect; and the laser designators didn't get back returns. Every time they fired, however, the enemy fired back within seconds using the same equipment."

Graham was confused, "It's like a mirror...But how is that possible?"

"We still haven't been able to replicate the effect today. The Bolo was deployed, and was heavily damaged after he fired into the anomaly and was hit with fire identical to his own. Somehow, the enemy had been manipulating space-time to redirect the weapons fire back at our own men…" she scratched her head, "I don't pretend to understand what the science was behind it, but he managed to defeat them by scuttling his fusion pile just outside the anomaly instead of in it. They weren't able to redirect it anywhere."

Graham chuckled a little, "Wow. The more I talk to you and Hector, the more I hate Spratly. Bolos are behind half the great war stories."

Kyle grimaced, "I know. The fool would still have us in the camps if he had his way."

"Operation Valhalla paid off, though, no thanks to him. Look at us now!"

He gestured around at the _Piranha-_ class frigate, paint peeling off the walls and old bloodstains faded into the table. "I didn't know some of these things were still around! And you got _four_ of them operational?"

Kyle shrugged, "I'm not even sure how we managed to get a _fleet_ together without Hector. After you two...disappeared, the colonel kept us all together. It was so weird, the man who had been afraid to help us out of the camp suddenly coordinating the global escape..."

Graham's small smile faded, and he looked down at his boots. His right hand balled into a fist.

"Jamie, it's not your fault." Kyle said, putting a hand on his.

"I know, Alita. Hector's given me the talk already. It's just...I still felt like I abandoned you guys. After all we went through, only to get thrown across space...and time apparently."

"Well, we managed to survive. I think our chances may have improved without Hector painting a 'shoot us now' sign on our heads."

Graham snorted a laugh at the mildly dark joke, "The Reapers started taking pot-shots at us when we first got home, but their attacks weren't that effective. Those Thanix cannons were the only things that could even scratch Hector's paint, and they couldn't pierce his battlescreens or his processing. I think a few laser interceptors shot down some of their rounds too…"

"We both had quite a few adventures, didn't we?" Kyle laughed.

"Yeah...Grakaan for you, Turians for us, Cerberus for both." Graham laughed with her.

After a moment, Kyle hesitantly asked, "Have you thought about the whole time travel thing much? Has Hector mentioned it?"

"No, he's still a snob. I can't tell how a Bolo's affected by this kind of thing. But frankly, it scares the hell out of me." Graham rubbed his face, "To go nearly a thousand years into the past? Everything we've built undone? Jeez…"

"I know what you mean. The thought of the Concordiat, the Deng Wars, the Melconian War, our Bolos, all undone is almost as unsettling as getting harvested...Almost."

Graham looked at the viewscreen mounted on one end of the compartment, currently set to an external camera. The _Mako_ sat near a brand new Turian orbital facility. It was hastily cobbled together from purpose-made modules, those few intact surviving pieces from the previous platforms, and a pair of gutted and crippled frigates served as living quarters for the time being.

Another ship was under construction in scaffolding made out of the remains of a heavy cruiser. It was extremely primitive compared to even the _Mako_ , but was still pretty advanced for the current tech base.

A proper railgun, not the technically-a-railgun-but-in-only-the-barest-definition slapped-together cannons they had been previously using, made up its spinal weapon. The advanced coil designs, combined with the mysterious element zero, would make for an extremely devastating weapon.

Missile pods, awaiting ordnance, were being installed along each flank, a wide variety of different warheads packed inside; typical rockets, magnetically accelerated, and stealth missiles.

Time travel? No, that didn't seem right. It just didn't...fit. Hector had said that the mineral identified as element zero here, wasn't actually a chemical element. It was some sort of compound that Concordiat scientists had experimented with for FTL, but research was completely overshadowed by hyperspace. Hyper-light was about the same travel time, but all hyperspace-related travel required was a fusion pile and an engine, not rare element zero.

The success of element zero around here was attributed to the intra-galactic starship catapults constructed millions of years ago by some extinct alien race. They could cross distances that would take hyperspace years. Graham supposed that made sense, but it didn't match up with anything in their historical records. There was supposed to be one making up the core of Charon, Pluto's moon, and yet Concordiat records said nothing about it.

As if element zero hadn't tipped him off, the people around here didn't even think hyperspace was real!

There were even more inconsistencies. Bolos were completely new to them. There had been no Great Collapse. Lasers still required starships to use. Missiles were decades behind in development, genetic engineering was _illegal_ , and yet somehow both humans and aliens were able to exert control over dark energy fields...Oh, and there were the massive hordes of millennia-old killer robots bent on wiping out humanity. Everything was wrong. Just...everything.

Time travel did more than refuse to fit. It was completely wrong.

Quickly, he explained his thoughts to Captain Kyle. She nodded vigorously in agreement, "Now that you mention it, I've noticed that stuff too. I wonder if someone went further back in time and changed some things…"

Both rolled their eyes. No one in their right mind would do that.

"...Or something else is at work."

"Reapers?" Graham asked.

There was a beat.

"Don't be silly, Jamie. The Reapers can barely match a mark XX in brain power. Maybe…"

They looked at each other, "Maybe the !*!*! did something."

Graham shook his head, "No, I don't think they would. If they had this capability, they wouldn't waste it to make the Concordiat disappear…Even to kill Hector that's stretching it."

He abruptly changed the subject, furrowing his brow, "A mark XX? Really that bad?"

She grinned sheepishly, "Okay, maybe not _that_ bad. They do seem a bit limited in thinking, though. They could easily destroy a lot of enemy defences if they used proper tactics. According to Shepard, that Enhanced Defense Intelligence poked quite a few holes in their strategies."

"Speaking of which, what was you opinion on Commander Shepard?" Asked Graham.

Kyle shrugged, "He seemed like a decent soldier. I only spoke with him over visual comms."

"He helped me negotiate with the Council before you guys got here. Shepard seems to be a bit more tolerant of AI...Though he was a bit dodgy when I asked him about it."

"I'm glad he's the one searching for that Genophage cure. We need the Grakaan back in the fight. Where is he now?"

Graham shrugged, "Last I heard he was headed toward Tuchanka, but not moving directly there. Something about 'side-missions', whatever those are."

 **XXXXX**

 **Eden Prime**

Commander Javik gasped as if he had been holding his breath. Instantly he regretted that decision, his lungs felt like they were frozen and on fire at the same time; it hurt even more to exhale.

All four eyes popped open, and he looked around. His body was still recovering from stasis, and the frozen/burning sensation was fading quickly, but he couldn't move much for a few seconds.

Javik's eyesight was blurry, his memory slow to return as well. His muscles remembered, though; and registered that there were several figures standing around him who were not in regulation armor.

With a snarl, he summoned up biotic energy, pushing past the pain and _willing_ his mildly-atrophied muscles to move and launch a blast.

They disappeared from the area of his pod, and he clumsily rolled out. His body ached to simply lay there, and take in the glorious sky...But lying about was for the weak.

He was strong. He was vengeance. He was about to become very sick.

Javik tripped out of his pod, falling off the table it had been placed on and fell on his face; just before he spewed a pile of vile blue fluid onto the floor. The fluids that the cryo pod pumped in to keep him from wasting away had always been foul, and difficult to extricate from the lungs.

An imperial soldier did not complain, however. He got to his feet, moving towards the nearest cover he could find.

A quick glance at one of the hostiles send him skidding to a halt.

 _What?_

The closest was an Asari. _An Asari!_ It wore what looked like an advanced combat uniform, and shakily held a _firearm_!

 _Impossible_.

He looked at another one of the figures. It was one of the monkeys! It also wore a combat uniform, and was reaching for its own firearm.

 _What fool spiked the rations again?_

There was a Turian too! Two more monkeys! And…What looked like synths.

Javik turned around, ready to rush off again and making a note to whip himself for abandoning his weapon...He stopped in his tracks.

 _Oh no._

The city was gone. Only a few small spires stuck up from the ground, and showed signs of recent excavation.

In the place of the city lay rolling green hills, fields of wheat...and alien architecture. All across the area. Pre-fabs by the look of them.

He heard footsteps coming closer, but ignored them. _This can't be happening...I must be dreaming..._

A hand landed on his shoulder, and suddenly, there was another presence. Not beside him. In his head. Someone had begun an Exchange.

Commander Javik latched onto the unknown, "reading" their mind for information. Much of it was routine, simple things like language. Words, definitions, pronunciation, datives, inflections.

The other was making a connection as well. Reading random pieces, most likely only the freshest memories. Strange. It was alien, but familiar somehow. Stranger still, it was able to make sense of the words in his memories.

Javik collapsed to the deck again, unprepared for the sudden shock. Distantly, his memory returned, and he recalled what Victory had said. Another culture would have had to find the bunker.

Javik shook his head, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling from his mind. He was still on all fours, the queasiness fading slightly as he asked, "How many others?"

Protheans never grappled with words, unless the individual they got the language from already had problems. So, as a result, with a mere touch the officer could speak with the same fluency as a native speaker.

"Just you." the calm voice of the monkey-the human, replied.

Javik leaned back onto his legs. Imperial soldiers did not show shame...but the empire no longer existed, did it?

 _No. As long as one of still lives, the empire exists. as does military protocol_. He growled in frustration, and seized a handful of weeds. He kept his shame inside.

"You can understand me?" the human asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Javik replied distantly, his mind still in another time, "Now that I have read your physiology. Your nervous system. Enough to understand your language.

"So you were reading me, while I was seeing…"

"...Our last moments. Our failure." the Prothean's tone turned from distant to harsh. He ignored the sounds of weapons clacking behind him, and looked at the handful of grass in his hand. Out of everything that could have, this was what hadn't changed in any way. The grass was still the same he had seen before going into the bunker. Still the same that he had trained on, bled on, and sat on. Out of everything, _the grass_ remained the same.

He got to his feet, as the human strode into his field of vision, giving Javik a clear view of his rescuer. The male wore light blue armor with red highlights, and an open helmet with a blue monocle, which gave a clear view of his face. It seemed fairly generic for a human, but there were a few details that stood out.

In comparison to normal Protheans, the human's cheekbones were a little high, making his eyes look a little more tolerable. Still a bit too big for comfort, how did they not roll around in their sockets? Strands of crimson hair struck out from underneath the helmet, looking as itchy as ever. _At least they finally discovered razors..._

"Your people did everything they could," he said, filled with the weakness of compassion, "They never gave up. And I could use some of that commitment now."

He put a hand to his ear, apparently interacting with a primitive "push to talk" interface.

The other members of the human's team approached. Javik looked at all of them again, realizing that they hadn't been a hallucination. "Human, Asari, Turian...I am surrounded by primitives…"

The human, apparently done with his conversation, said, "It's not safe here. Will you join us?"

 _Join primitives?!_ He weighed his options. Stay in the warzone, go with the human. Both were pretty tempting… "Do you fight the Reapers?"

"Yes." The human officer replied proudly.

Javik turned around, and looked the human in the eye for the first time. "Then we will see."

The human nodded, and abruptly stuck out his hand. Javik, careful not to release his confusion, merely looked from it to the human, before turning around and moving away.

Commander Javik returned to his pod, and rested a hand on its solid, and battered tip. He felt along the grooves set in the edge, and found what he was looking for; he ran two fingers horizontally along the area, then vertically. Reacting to his presence, his unique touch, and the pattern, the oval light faded. With a hiss, the pressurized compartment unfolded. Within was stored the best combat loadout the remnants of a galactic empire could provide.

It was still a lot, all packed into one small duffel bag. Spare parts for his computer equipment, his armor's various support systems, and weaponry. Rations for an extended period of time, supplies for sanitary requirement, and a medical kit. Several weapons neatly folded away and arranged next to the entire spare set of armor.

Javik allowed himself a bitter snort of laughter. How he had scolded the poor subordinate who had been equipping his pod; "Were you somehow denied elementary education? I pity the shame your matron must feel. You _know_ a true soldier of the empire shall only require one set of armor! We sleep in it, we fight in it, we die in it!"

The subordinate, rightly not showing any sign of weakness, told him that no one in the bunker would go without this equipment.

Javik would never admit it, but he was glad for it. He snatched up the duffel bag, and moved around to the side of the pod. Reaching in, he withdrew his battered particle rifle, and helmet.

He began to stalk towards the primitives' shuttle, when one set of eyes popped open with alarm. The Prothean felt around his throat, and could find nothing. He stuck a hand beneath his collar, feeling for anything.

He hurried back to the pod, and felt along the cushions; his nails found purchase on the thin chain. Javik snatched it up, and put it back over his head, sliding it under his collar where it belonged.

The human, the one with the N7 on his chest, was standing there patiently. He made no move to question Javik's actions.

Javik made no eye contact, and headed for the shuttle again.

He passed the larger of the two synths moving in the opposite direction, and used one eye to look it up and down.

To his hidden surprise, one auditory sensor stared back, but gave no indication of alarm. The Prothean officer decided to leave it alone for now. The machine looked heavily armed, with what looked like micro-missile launchers and a long tube that could only be an artillery gun. Impressive. Most likely some sort of drone.

 _Curious_. It was made of extremely advanced materials, a greater improvement over the other humans' equipment. Its colors shimmered in the light, possibly indicative of a dynamic camouflage system.

Javik also noted out of the corner of his leftmost eye that the human leader wasn't content to let him move to the shuttle unescorted. A human that looked every part the primitive and stupid creatures their Terran ancestors had been, with his buff frame and ridiculous expressions, was keeping a distance but matched his step. The white and blue armored human was most likely their heavy weapons expert, his physique was suited for nothing else.

In the other eye, the Asari was keeping a distance, but doing a very poor job of matching his step. The Asari wore the lightest armor in the group, black with white highlights. She seemed to be some sort of biotic specialist. Why else would she have such a light weapon loadout? That type of planning was dangerous though, every soldier was supposed to pull their weight, and was expected to be able to defend themselves. Javik, as a wielder of force himself, was trained in every art a standard soldier was.

The Asari seemed to be watching him, in intense detail.

Javik ignored both of them, and found his way to the shuttle. He stopped in front of the hatch. He didn't know if they had developed friend-or-foe automatic doors, and did not want to embarrass himself by accidentally walking into it.

The Asari, after a moment, shot him a presumed-dirty(yet confused) look, and stalked forward. She waved an omni-tool in front of the hatch, and it popped open with a sigh.

The interior was unusual. There were only berths for twelve. _They are pushing the limits, they should not put this many aboard a ship at once. Too many casualties._

Still, the extra elbow room might be nice.

He stepped aboard, and sat down in the center of one of the four three-seat clusters in the compartment. Javik placed his rifle to one side, duffel bag to the other.

Though his head was oriented towards the floor, his eyes watched as the squad entered. First came the Asari and the neanderthal, then the officer. He carried several weapons on his back, most of which were the same as those Javik had seen back "home". but cradled an odd-looking mass accelerator in his arms. Instead of thermal clips, or a heat exhaust vent, there was an archaic clip jutting out from its butt. A secondary barrel, for heavier rounds most likely, was far wider than it should have been.

Javik grimaced. He had his work cut out in educating the primitives.

The Turian entered next. He was clad in a desert camouflage pattern, carried a sniper rifle, and wore a visor over one eye. He must have been their marksman.

There was a shudder, and the drone, the bigger synth, entered the shuttle. Surprisingly, it fit. It quickly moved to a corner, and to Javik's surprise, folded up into a box. _Interesting storage mechanism._

The second synth, the one he hadn't seen in great detail, gracefully entered. It sat down at one of the berths nearby, clasping its hands in its lap.

Javik gritted his teeth in disgust. The primitives were at ease with the synths, so clearly they were not hostile...for the moment. He had heard that primitives could be tempermental about justified dismemberment, so he couldn't eliminate the machines. Yet.

As he looked at it, he realized that the second was designed to appear as human as possible; it wore integrated jet-black armor designed in the same way as them, wielded their weapons, and was even interacting with the rest of the squad..

He noted that there were several devices mounted on the platform, made from the same materials as the first drone. They contrasted sharply with the rest of its design, all made with the more primitive materials of the first two humans.

Javik also noted that its visual sensors kept watching him, examining him. _Soon, you will show your true face, monster._

The third human was the last to enter, slamming the hatch shut and placing his weapon on his back. His combat uniform didn't match the rest, the materials were too advanced, and the colors were different; sky blue and white, rather than black or dark blue. Javik noted that certain patterns shifted, and their tints would change. _Dynamic armor systems...Interesting._

His helmet was open like the officer's, but with a tinted visor that covered everything above his gigantic human nose. There was a strange-looking camera above the visor as well, but it didn't seem to be integrated into the helmet. Javik saw why, frayed and torn wires held it on; it was a trophy.

 _This one it seems has battled synths._

The human was also the most likely candidate for the handler of the drone, his armor's materials and insignia was virtually identical.

 _What's this?_ The Prothean looked from the larger synth and his presumed human handler to the first two humans. The insignia was different. In fact, the insignia of the turian and Asari were different as well. They weren't all identical.

They could be special ops, those units never had proper access to supply lines, yet the primitives' armor was all brand new and clean. None of the others had the dynamic camouflage, so that wasn't the reason.

 _Could they be..._ Allies _? Not one unified empire? Blasted primitives._

These thoughts were shattered as the handler appeared in his field of vision. He reached for Javik's bag, no doubt trying to steal it. Primitives. His matron most likely would have been ashamed that her offspring would let himself get caught so easily.

The Prothean officer slammed a hand down on the bag, and glared up at the surprised human.

"I was just moving it!" the human growled.

Javik noticed for the first time several things unusual about the human's physical fitness. His skin hung off his bones, his eyes were sunken in, and Javik realized that his armor hung off his frame. _Curious..._

Undeterred, the human roughly shoved the bag out of the way, and sat down.

Javik glared at the primitive, and pushed him off the seat. The neanderthal snorted in amusement, as the handler jumped to his feet.

"Stand down, specialist!" The officer barked, when the handler cracked his knuckles.

"Sir-!"

"I don't want to hear it, Dobbs. Stand down."

The handler's fists fell to his sides, but tightened. "...Yes sir."

 _Unfortunate. A confrontation would be refreshing._

The asari was staring at him again. Trying to hide her camera. Poorly.

 **XXXXX**

 **SSV Normandy**

"A living Prothean?" Admiral Hackett asked in mild disbelief, his voice tinny through the quantum entanglement device.

"That's correct admiral. But he's not quite what we expected." Shepard replied. _Kinda rude too._

"Commander, our scientists barely understand what they need to do here. Even with help from the CDF. They only learned mass relays existed a few weeks ago," he took a step forward for emphasis, "If the Prothean can help us construct this device, we need his cooperation."

"Understood admiral."

"The CDF may have pushed the Reapers back, but that only increased their attacks on some of our more distant colonies. We're losing them faster than they can be evacuated. We've never seen a force like the Reapers."

"He has, admiral." Shepard pointed it.

"Can he help us?" Hackett asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"I intend to find out." Shepard replied. He hesitated, before adding, "How useful has CDF strategic advice been?"

Hackett shook his head, "I don't know what type of Reapers they were fighting, but they were very different from 'ours'. Not too many concepts really apply. General doctrine and tactics are useful for minimizing casualties, but are still designed for organic enemies, so they have a few flaws. Even worse, what few insights apply specifically to Reapers, were only made for protecting a single star system."

"How has the search for allies been doing, sir?" Shepard asked, hoping for some shred of good news.

"A few ships have found leads. Some abandoned mining operations that weren't made by any known species, a handful of raided vessels, but it's slow going. A lot of the data isn't connected to active mass relays."

Shepard sighed.

Hackett gave a little shrug of sympathy, before standing formally at ease, "Commander, good work. Cerberus has slipped up and given us a new weapon. Don't let it go to waste. Hackett out."

The hologram fizzled away, as the PA suddenly snapped to life.

"Shepard, I need you down in the port cargo hold. It's about our new guest."

"On my way."

A pair of nervous-looking Alliance marines stood at the door of the hatch, both holding the new-model M-9 Nemesis assault rifles. They were of the boarding party variant, designed to inflict massive damage on organic targets, but not be able to penetrate hulls. Shepard had never really trusted that completely, one of the reasons he always kept his crew in full vacuum gear during boarding actions.

 _Hopefully we can get a few of those PPG prototypes, don't want any hull breaches the next time someone boards._ Shepard thought offhandedly as he opened the door.

Inside, the cargo bay hadn't changed much from the last time the commander had been down here. A bit more misty, and the tank was gone, that was it.

Several more guards stood in the center of the room, all looking at the Prothean kneeling and staring at the floor.

An anxious Liara spotted him arriving, and walked over. Dobbs was right behind her, wearing CDF fatigues instead of his armor, but still bore a power pistol in a holster at his side.

"What's the problem?" Shepard asked.

"I've tried to make the room more accommodating, but they won't let me talk to him." She reported, eyeing the Prothean with concern.

One of the marines stepped over, "Apologies, Doctor. Contact protocol with a new species, 'assume hostility'." He smiled a little, "Had to dust off the regulations."

Dobbs rolled his eyes, "I still think that's a bad idea. And a bit racist when you think about it. The Concordiat's policy was to sign a non-aggression treaty as quickly as possible, we didn't think everyone was a gun-wielding maniac."

"Well, we can't all have killer robot tanks, now can we?" The marine shot back. This argument had clearly been going for a while.

Liara interjected, "He's not new, though. I've spent my whole life studying Protheans."

Shepard was only half listening. He noticed that, to the casual observer, the Prothean must have looked like he was ignoring everything. However, in the commander's experience, every special forces soldier across every species had very similar general body language at certain times.

When they were gathering information, for example. Not preparing an assault, just observing.

"At ease. I don't think our guest is going to be a problem..." He pushed past the marine and went to stand in front of the Prothean. The guards relaxed slightly, but were still wary of the unknown in front of them. The alien got to his feet, looking down slightly at the commander.

"...will he?"

"That depends on you." The Prothean replied, his four eyes cast in shadow.

He suddenly stepped forward, grabbing Shepard by the arms. The marines snapped up their weapons as a green flash shot outward for a brief instant. "Release the commander." Dobbs ordered, setting his weapon for pencil beam.

Instead of attacking the commander, the Prothean bowed his head slightly, "I can sense fear in you. Anxiety and distress. The Reapers have begun their assaults."

He furrowed his brow, "Odd…There's something else..." Before he abruptly released Shepard.

Shepard moved back, out of arm's reach. _Weird alien rituals…_ "What do you mean, 'you sense'?"

The Prothean turned away, stepping over to one of the odd water-filled tables in the back of the room while keeping two eyes on Shepard, "All life provides clues to those who can read them. It's in your cells, your DNA. Experience is a biological marker." He turned his head fully forward, and ran a hand through the water, peering at the drops left on his glove.

Shepard put a hand out for the marines to relax, and stepped slightly closer, but still out of arm's reach, "Then what exactly did I experience on Eden Prime? That was a hell of a flashback."

The Prothean peered back, "The battle left its own mark on me. I communicated this to you. It can work both ways."

"Like your beacons?" Liara asked, stepping closer.

The Prothean turned around, "Yes, which…"

"Don't!" Dobbs shouted, but the alien had seized Shepard again.

The familiar nightmare messages of at least three different beacons ran through Shepard's mind again, with a second presence this time.

The Prothean stepped back, all four chameleon eyes open wide in shock. In a controlled stumble he fell back against one of the tables, "You...you found one. You saw it all-Our destruction, our warnings…"

The air of toughness and superiority faded, leaving only anxiety, frustration, and fearful disbelief in his eyes, "Why weren't they heeded?" He demanded, his voice almost failing for a moment. In a flash, the fear was gone, his dignity returned, and he bared carnivorous canines, roaring in rage, "Why didn't you prepare for the Reapers, human?!"

Shepard, in equal frustration, barked back, "It's 'commander,' and nobody could understand your warnings! The beacon nearly killed me!"

The Prothean scowled, and began to pace, "Then communication is still primitive in this cycle."

"Tell me about it…" Dobbs muttered under his breath. He still had his pistol at the ready.

"We pieced together what we could, and used it to stop a Reaper invasion three years ago." Shepard explained to the Prothean's back.

The alien turned around, "Then the extinction was delayed?"

Shepard nodded, as Liara approached, "Now we have your plans for the device. We're going to build it." She moved over to the display set between the two water-filled tables, and input a command.

"'Device'?" The Prothean asked.

"The weapon your people were working on," Liara explained, disappointment seeping into her voice, "I hoped you could tell us how to finish it."

The Prothean stared at the schematics appearing on the screen, stepping closer to study it.

Slowly, but sadly, he lowered his head, closing all four eyes, "We never finished it. It was too late."

"Then I take it you don't know anything about the Catalyst?" Shepard asked.

"No." the Prothean replied flatly, leaning against the console, "I was a soldier, not a scientist. Skilled in one art; killing."

"What was your mission?" Liara asked.

The Prothean did not turn around. His eyes remained fixed upon the Crucible for a long time before he finally replied, "Among my people there were...avatars of many traits: bravery, strength, cunning. A single exemplar for each."

"Which are you?" Asked Shepard.

The Prothean tilted his head upwards, his voice soaked in determination and anger, "The embodiment of vengeance. I am the anger of a dead people, demanding blood spilled for the blood we lost. Only when the last Reaper has been destroyed will my purpose be fulfilled. I have no other reason to exist."

Shepard looked at the marine in charge of the guards, and made a dismissive head motion. The marine opened his mouth in protest, and closed it again. He saluted, and motioned for the others to follow.

All filed out of the cabin, except for Specialist Dobbs.

"Those who share my purpose become allies. Those who do not, become casualties."

"Nothing in our fight against the Reapers has been that cut-and-dried." Shepard declared.

The Prothean turned all the way around, looking Shepard in the eye, "Because you still have hope that this war will end with your honor intact."

"I do." Shepard countered, staring down the 50,000 year old soldier.

Angry, the Prothean walked forward until he was a few centimeters from Shepard's face, "Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls, and ask the ghosts if honor matters." He pointed in a random direction for emphasis.

They stayed quiet, staring each other down with iron glares. "This silence, is your answer." The Prothean finally hissed.

They made eye contact a moment more, before Liara went over to a table next to the door, trying to lessen the animosity. A small silver and glowing-blue rectangle hovered above a small device, rotating as the machine hummed quietly, "We found this at the dig site. I assume it's yours?"

"It is a memory shard." The Prothean said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Could it help us with the device?"

"No…" The Prothean said softly, "It contains only pain."

He stepped back from Shepard, and stood in a more neutral posture, "...But I will help you fight."

"And the last thing the Reapers hear before they die, will be the last voice of the Protheans sending them to their graves." The Prothean ground out with a sense of finality.

"If you don't mind, I have a few more questions I'd like to ask." Liara requested, her glee barely contained and undeterred.

"Here it comes…" Shepard muttered, trying to lighten the mood.

"I've written over a dozen studies on your species. I've published in scientific journals-"

The Prothean watched her pace back and forth with a bored expression. "Amusing. Asari have finally mastered writing."

Liara stopped speaking, looking him with a terrifying gaze, "I'm sorry?"

He leaned back against one of the tables, "Never mind. What do you wish to know?"

The conversation went on for a while, the commander finding it surprisingly easy to get information out of the alien. Perhaps it was Javik's vast loneliness that overcame his arrogance.

The Prothean described the merciless war of attrition the empire the war had waged against the Reapers, the sensor ability of his species, and more than a few odd insights into Prothean culture. The almost Roman imperialism, and their lack of empathy. Liara recorded everything, with varying reactions depending on the subject matter. The ones about Prothean culture were the most upsetting.

Finally…"Thank you for talking with me," Shepard said, then added, "I never imagined actually meeting a Prothean."

The alien nodded politely, "This has been...amusing." The politeness was immediately canceled out.

"Oh?" Shepard asked.

"To discover the most primitive races of my time now rule the galaxy. The Asari, the humans, the Turians…"

"There's also the Salarians." Liara added.

"The lizard people evolved?" The Prothean asked in disbelief.

"I believe they're amphibian." Liara retorted with a degree of anger.

He gave her a look of _Really?_ "They used to eat _flies_."

She gave the ancient soldier one final look of betrayal, then stormed off.

The Prothean stared after her for a moment, before looking back towards Shepard, "Commander. You may count on me. I am known as Javik."

He flexed an arm experimentally, "...Though I still need time to recover. The...shock has not worn off yet."

Shepard knew he meant more than physical, "I understand. This must be a hell of an experience for you. We're just glad to have you onboard, Javik."

Javik nodded again, and Shepard began to walk out.

"Dobbs?"

The specialist was still in the room.

He looked up defiantly, "Hey, I was here before he was. I'm not moving." He meant it.

Shepard sighed, "Specialist…" he shook his head. Space was always a premium on starships. If Dobbs had to move, someone else would. "Javik, would you mind if…?"

Javik crossed his arms, but dipped his head, "It is tolerable. In any case, I doubt he could successfully take me by surprise, even during sleep."

Shepard nodded reluctantly, but dragged the CDF trooper out into the hall for a moment. "Explain." He growled, "You two nearly attacked each other on the shuttle, and now you want to bunk with him?"

"Sir, he's just realized he might be the last of his people. They might have had their own Operation Seed Corn, but for now, we're all he's got, so I might as well try to get to know him."

Dobbs peered through the open door at the Prothean's back, and whispered, "And again, last of his people. What kind of effect do you think that might have on his mind? Someone needs to be close by, keep an eye on him."

Shepard stared at the younger man for a long moment, finally releasing his slender arm. "Good thinking. _Don't_ , start anything."

He walked out of the room, hoping that they would listen to him.

 _Damn, I should've thought of that,_ he thought as he pushed the elevator control, cursing himself for thinking too hard about the _Prothean_ and not enough about the _person_. He shuddered at the weight of the emotions that must have been piling down on Javik.

 **Commander Javik**

Javik felt the eyes of the handler upon him. He ignored the human, and continued to unpack his equipment. Not that there was much to take out. Evacuation during the last days of the Empire had been ever-present, even an infantryman's pack had to be made to be easily mobile at a moment's notice.

Several fold-out panels made up most of the cargo space, the contents strapped tightly in by webbing; if a soldier needed to move quickly, they could easily just fold up the kit and run.

"Hey." the human finally said, stepping up behind him. Wisely, he stayed out of arm's reach.

Javik had no time for mindless drivel. He removed the data recorder recovered from the stasis pod, containing what little data the Victory VI had sent him before going offline. Reports of pods going offline every few hundred years, power systems, and other bunker systems. There were also some other reports about the outside environment. None of the major observation systems that could monitor the sky had survived, but enough sensors had survived to scan the environment of the planet.

They described it change from fertile to extremely barren as the Reaper bombardment took effect, then reverting back to a peaceful planet after a few hundred years. The reports fell to a trickle as more sensors withered away.

"Hey, buddy."

Perhaps the sensor data could prove useful for this cycle's stasis operations. Of course they were more primitive, but even the Empire had not possessed any data on 50,000 year long suspension…

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

He felt a pair of clumsy blunt fingers tap on the tip of his carapace. What felt like a lightning bolt shot through the base of Javik's neck, as distorted illegible green Prothean scripture scrolled across his field of vision.

An instant later, sensory information coursed into his mind from the human. Images of a beautiful shining city, filled with skyscrapers, manufacturing plants, apartment buildings, and gently beeping traffic appeared. The technology made it look like home to the Prothean officer, or what he might have imagined the Empire was like before the war.

The images were replaced with a rendition of the same scene, only this time virtually annihilated. The proud skyscrapers had disappeared, not even their stumps remained. The apartment buildings were flattened, the vehicles scattered for thousands of kilometers. One manufacturing building in particular was on the very edge of whatever blast had it, and was cut neatly in half.

The link was unintentional; he could cut it right now. Javik was curious though, and pushed on.

A faster set of images appeared. Massive warships descending from above, feelings of fear and distress. Words he could not understand, but sending out waves of anger and defeat. The manufacturing building appeared again, amid shock, horror, rage, and sickness. A camp, digging among one's own technology for days on end, with little food and rest. Beatings, torment, malnutrition. The sounds of people-humans-screaming.

 _What is this?_

A great feeling of betrayal, focused around one memory in particular. A strange fortification built on a hill. It was artificial...Yet why so personal?

The feeling disappeared, along with the horror, to be replaced with hope, excitement, and adrenaline, when the fortification began to _move_.

Sounds of battle, deafening blasts. A brief glimpse of the mobile fortification again, pointing its massive cannons skyward and firing again and again.

 _Bolo. Hector_. The words floated out of the human's mind. What did they mean?

Reluctantly, sensing the human beginning to panic, Javik relaxed, and found his way back to his home dimension.

The human stumbled backwards, clumsily pulling out his odd-looking sidearm.

"The flying fuck was that?!" He demanded, unsteady on his feet and in proper grip of his sidearm.

"Specialist Dobbs, do not open fire." A voice said abruptly, before Javik could inform the primitive of his stupidity.

"Do you know what he did?" The human demanded of the voice, "My vision went all screwy, I think he was screwing with my inserts!"

"I do not believe he was attempting to sabotage your neural interface, Specialist Dobbs. Actually, both of you possess similar devices."

"He does?" They asked in unison, and glared.

"Affirmative. Please refrain from inflicting bodily harm upon one another."

"Where did you get this technology?" Javik demanded with an accusing claw, "Answer, human!"

The human glared for a moment more, and slowly holstered his weapon.

"During enlistment, 'Prothean'. Where'd you get yours?"

Javik did not feel like talking to anyone else beyond this vessel's commanding officer, and had given up enough information already.

"Idle threats are empty threats, handler." Javik observed, taking a posture that made him appear at ease, but would allow him to quickly knock out his opponent, "Do you have the courage to back it up?"

"Robert, he is trying to bait you." The speaker on the primitive communications system warned, using the human's first name. _Spoiler of events..._

The human continued to make eye contact. The corner of his mouth abruptly went up, "Were you actually trying to draw me into a fight, or did you just want to-"

Javik's wrist hurt slightly from the impact. _Their jaws are mostly bone,_ he noted, _They seem to possess more nerves to either side._

The human stood himself up, poking at several of his teeth. "Guess that's a yes," he coughed, "Let's go down to the shuttle bay to do this. The commander won't kill us for wrecking this place, and Vega knows how to put teeth back in."

 **XXXXX**

 _ **Codex Updated**_

 **M-9 Nemesis** \- Recently developed utilizing CDF coilgun designs, the M-9 Nemesis Modular Combat Rifle is designed primarily as an all-purpose modifiable anti-husk weapon, that could also be used against more standard foes.

Alliance and Turian intelligence found that during the Battles for Earth and Palaven, ground troops armed with fully automatic weapons frequently found themselves overwhelmed by large numbers of standard husks. Unlike most contemporary enemies, and unlike their tougher brethren, standard husks have no sense of self-preservation, and cannot be driven into cover, suppressive fire is therefore ineffective. Meanwhile, other units when in combat with smarter variants of husks, found that most standard-issue assault rifles did not have the required stopping power.

In addition, due to the difficulties in maintaining supply lines, those firearms that prove effective were quickly rendered inoperable.

The Nemesis was designed to combine attributes of several different weapons, combining the high muzzle velocity, stopping power, and accuracy of the M-96 Mattock, with the high rate of fire and ammunition, along with the reliability and versatility of the M-8 Avenger. Heat is regulated through a stock-mounted module containing a mixture of liquid nitrogen and other classified chemicals that can be easily swapped out and reused

In addition, a feature quickly becoming standard in all weaponry, is the underslung Gyrojet launcher, designed by Aegohr Munitions, the designer of the Scorpion Heavy Pistol. It utilizes smart self-guided microjet rockets tipped with a variety of warheads ranging from conventional explosives to chemical.


End file.
